


Eager to be Held

by bimmyshrug



Category: IT (1990), IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Abusive Parents, Abusive Relationships, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Artist Richie Tozier, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, Codependency, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Gaslighting, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Innocent Eddie Kaspbrak, Insecure Eddie Kaspbrak, Jealous Richie Tozier, M/M, Manipulation, Obsessive Behavior, Past Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Richie Tozier, Possessive Sex, Praise Kink, Richie Tozier Being an Asshole, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is Bad at Feelings, Sexual Inexperience, Size Difference, Size Kink, Top Richie Tozier, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:27:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 167,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22110310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bimmyshrug/pseuds/bimmyshrug
Summary: Please take the trigger warnings seriously. They're posted at the beginning of each chapter and may contain spoilers. Read at your own discretion.-College freshman Eddie Kaspbrak tries to enjoy being free to live his life the way he chooses now that he's out of his mother's house, but still finds himself falling back into patterns of insecurity and self-doubt. It makes dating nearly impossible when he barely likes spending time with himself, so he is positively smitten when he matches with a cute, artsy junior named Richie who seems to like him quite a bit. But Richie also likes to party, and drink, and do a lot of things that Eddie has never really done before. So he does them for Richie, and he knows he's taking it too far, but can he really be blamed for it? He's got an almost-boyfriend for the first time ever. And yes, maybe he shouldn't have drank so much at this party, or taken drinks from strangers, or tried to keep up with Richie doing lines in the bathroom, but he's probably in /love./ So getting as drunk and as high and as uninhibited as he does is okay, if he's just doing it this once. Because he can take care of himself.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 389
Kudos: 387





	1. Foolish, devouring things

**Author's Note:**

> //////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////  
> Trigger warnings: drug and alcohol use, homophobic language, body dysmorphia, graphic description of sexual assault, feminization/ emasculation as a means of degradation, mentions of forced impregnation, mentions of past childhood abuse/trauma, Eddie is overall extremely insecure  
> //////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
> 
> Seriously please heed the warnings. The sexual assault is very graphic, and I triggered myself a little writing it, so don't take the warnings lightly.
> 
> [ 'Eager to be Held' playlist for your disaster angst reading needs](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2u8K6ocYs6En71YbXDFMZ9?si=n-W6SVGmQk2m4PVTVUI8lg)
> 
> [ Come bother me on Tumblr ](https://bimmyshrug.tumblr.com/)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby, why don't you see, see my sea?  
> Make slow, get inside and pull on my sea  
> Get inside and build your castle into me  
> Baby, why don't you see, see my sea?  
> The moon is dead but she still pulls on me  
> Get inside and pull on my sea

Despite what all of the movies and TV shows Eddie watched growing up led him to believe, college is proving to be a much more terrifying experience than he had hoped. But terrifying in a good way, he figures, since the scariest part is being in total control over himself for the first time in his life. Being away from his stifling mother has proven to be the best and worst thing ever for him, because he can finally be 100% who he is and live his truth, but he is also incredibly paranoid because he has nobody at all to watch over him here. It sounds like such a childish want, but he misses being fussed over, even if the fussing was sometimes (usually) crippling. 

Making friends has been really hard, which Eddie also kind of blames on his mom. He never really had the opportunity to make friends because she kept him in the house for nearly his whole life. He does really like his roommate, Mike, and Mike's boyfriends. Yes, boyfriends, plural. Eddie thought that was the craziest thing ever when he first found out, but over the course of the first month, he's come to be almost in awe of how well they all function together. Now he feels more jealous than anything, since he doesn't even have one boyfriend, let alone two.

Mike seemed worried about what Eddie's reaction was going to be when he first told him, so Eddie confided in Mike that he’s gay as a sort of sign of trust, which Mike seemed to appreciate. And it was a big deal to Eddie. Mike is only the second person that Eddie has ever come out to, second only to his mother, which was a giant, horrible, disastrous mistake. 

"Yeah, I totally get it, man. When I came out to my grandpa, he freaked. I can't imagine how he would react if he knew I'm with two guys. He might drop dead, honestly,” Mike tells him with a chuckle, and Eddie feels weirdly relieved, even though it sucks that both of their guardians didn’t accept them.

"My mom crashed her station wagon in her haste to rush me to church after I came out to her, so she nearly took us both out,” Eddie admits, subconsciously rubbing at the scar along his elbow from where his arm broke in the car crash. 

"Catholic?" 

"How'd you guess! You too?" 

"Baptist, but just as crazy,” Mike sighs, with a sort of sad smile that Eddie returns in sympathy.

"I don't know what she expected. She made me watch  _ King of Kings _ so often that my first wet dream was about Jeffrey Hunter,” Eddie offers to lighten the mood, and Mike barks out a laugh, and Eddie thinks that is when they officially become friends. 

Over time, he becomes pretty good friends with Stan and Bill too, to the point where he can even convince himself that they like him, too. And they all spend many nights in he and Mike’s dorm room just hanging out, playing games together and enjoying each other’s company. They even start going to the dining halls together too, and Eddie really starts to feel like a normal college kid. He feels like he sort of just attached himself to their group sometimes, but they don’t seem to mind, and Bill even asks him to go to a writing workshop with him. Eddie doesn’t really have the heart to tell Bill that he only picked English as his major because he doesn’t really know what he wants to do with his life yet, but it’s a nice bonding experience all the same. 

And Stan helps him a lot with his math class, because he placed into pre-calculus somehow, even though he’s so terrible at math that he isn’t sure how that’s possible. But Stan is so kind and patient with him, and explains things slowly so Eddie can understand. And Eddie appreciates it so much that he buys Stan a shirt with little owls all over it that he saw on Amazon as a thank you after he gets a B on his second exam, and Stan absolutely adores it, and wears it so often that Eddie is sure it isn’t an act. 

He’s truthfully the most content he thinks he’s ever been, even though school is stressful and he is sure he should probably think about getting a job soon so that he can afford a car. Their campus is really beautiful, but it’s so secluded, and there’s nothing to really do other than party. Which everyone does, a lot. It’s not really Eddie’s scene so he avoids it, which he’s sure is pretty fucking lame, but he gets so nervous in social situations that going to a college party seems like a nightmare. Which is fine, because his friends don’t really party either, so he doesn’t feel too bad about it.

As the weather gets colder, though, he starts to get lonely. He normally loves the fall. He loves Halloween, his birthday is in fall, and it’s the prettiest time of year in New England. But seeing couples together all over campus starts to tug at a part of him that he hadn’t allowed himself to explore until he was out of his mother’s house. 

Seeing how in love Stan and Bill and Mike are makes it worse, too. Not that it’s their fault. But watching the three of them fawn over each other and adore each other so deeply makes Eddie want to cry sometimes, because he realizes for the first time that he wants that, too. So he finds himself wanting to talk to Mike about it, but he isn’t sure how to, since Mike’s relationship is different than any that Eddie has seen before. Still, Mike is the only person he knows in a well-functioning queer relationship, and they’re friends, so he decides to bite the bullet one day while they’re in their room doing homework together. 

“Are we at a level of friendship where I can ask you invasive questions yet?” Eddie blurts out after he’s had enough of reading  _ The Divine Comedy,  _ slamming the book shut and tossing it onto his desk.

“Go ahead,” Mike replies immediately, not even looking up from the biology lab report that he’s typing on his laptop.

“How did you guys all get together?” 

This time Mike does glance up with a small smile, looking up at the ceiling as he recalls. “Stan and Bill were friends since birth, basically; I met them when we were 13. It sort of just developed over time, I guess, until one day Stan sat us both down and confessed, and we all realized that we had feelings for each other.”

“So you all just...knew? That you belong together?” Eddie asks softly, picking at lint on his comforter to avoid Mike’s eyes.

“Yeah. We’re soulmates,” Mike replies matter-of-factly, and that makes Eddie smile and sort of want to cry at the same time. 

“So...so like. So…” Eddie stumbles over his words, trying to figure out how to phrase his next question without it sounding too prying.

“Is this one gonna be about sex?” Mike asks with a laugh, still typing, and Eddie flushes pink.

“Um...y-yeah. Um. Do you guys, like...together? All three of you?” Eddie manages to get out, and Mike laughs again, briefly glancing at Eddie before he answers, which makes Eddie flush deeper.

“Yeah, sometimes. Sometimes it’s just two of us. Sort of depends on the situation.”

“Do you top them both?” Eddie blurts out before yelping, slapping a hand over his mouth as Mike falls back onto his bed in laughter, his laptop sliding precariously farther out of his lap. 

“Bill and I are both vers, Stan is a bottom. We mix it up,” Mike eventually giggles out with a wink, and Eddie feels hot all over.

“And none of you ever get, like, jealous?”

“Not really,” Mike shrugs. “Sometimes, obviously, but we all communicate really well so it doesn't escalate.”

“I think- I think I want to try to date. But I’m not really sure how to,” Eddie finally admits, and Mike looks at him with his soft eyes, and Eddie feels weirdly vulnerable. 

“I know it can be hard to meet people. Honestly though, you’ll probably just meet people naturally by going to events and stuff. Just put yourself out there,” Mike suggests, and Eddie knows that it’s well-intentioned, but he doesn’t have the guts to admit to Mike that he isn’t really capable of just ‘putting himself out there.’

So he tries Stan instead when they meet up for lunch the next day, and Stan bites into a fry, considering Eddie with a furrow in his brow. “What about dating apps? Have you tried that?”

“Um...no.”

“Why not? I mean, it’s like the most control you could have over a dating situation, really. You can filter out anybody you want, get to know a guy before you meet up,” Stan shrugs, and Eddie bites the inside of his cheek.

“I mean, I thought people mostly did that to, like...hook up. That isn’t really what I want,” Eddie tells him, and Stan rolls his eyes with a laugh.

“Eddie, it’s 2019. People meet online all the time. Just don’t go with Grindr and you’ll be fine.”

Eddie doesn’t get the courage to try until a week later, when the impending reality of spending the colder seasons alone starts to weigh on him, and he finally downloads Tinder. The app sits on his phone, unopened and taunting him, for two days before he finally clicks on it while the four of them are sitting in the dorm watching Netflix. Eddie is sitting on his bed alone while Bill is laid across Mike’s bed with Stan in his lap, running his fingers through his curls. Mike is seated on the floor below them, occasionally glancing up at them with the biggest heart-eyes imaginable, and Eddie needs a distraction. 

He puts his information in and signs up for an account, and then he’s faced with creating a profile, which he hadn’t considered. He stares at the information fields blankly and starts biting his cheek, feeling his heart rate pick up. 

“You okay, Eddie?” Bill asks softly once he notices the look on his face, and Eddie glances over at them, finding all six eyes considering him thoughtfully. 

“Uh...yeah. Just. Um. Decided to give Tinder a try,” Eddie admits with a blush, and Stan sits up excitedly, clapping his hands once. 

“Yay! Match with anyone cute yet?” He asks, making his way over to Eddie’s bed to sit next to him, and Eddie gets embarrassed all over again about how much of a pussy he’s being about this. 

“Actually I’m...just making a profile now. I don’t really know what to put in it,” he admits, and Stan reaches for his phone, which Eddie allows him to take without hesitation. 

“Well, what do you want potential guys to know about you?” Stan asks, and Eddie shrugs.

“I-I don’t know. I’m, like, boring.”

“That’s not true, Eddie,” Bill says seriously, because he’s always so serious, and it makes Eddie shift uncomfortably on his bed. 

“Well...well then what do you guys think I should put?” 

So the three of them help Eddie build his profile, which makes him feel less panicky and nervous about the whole thing. He writes his bio mostly himself, settling on just being genuinely honest, since he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. 

_I've never really done something like this before, so...I guess I'll just say I'm a first year English major, and that I'm mostly looking for friends, but I am very down with more than that. Pretty new to college and being out of the closet, so advice on handling either is welcome._ _Dating is weird and makes me nervous so don’t be offended if I ghost, I’m so socially awkward that it hurts. Just assume that it’s not you, it’s me._

Stan laughs once he reads it and nods his approval, and Eddie feels encouraged by that. 

He picks  _ sea castle  _ by Purity Ring as his anthem, since it’s his favorite artist, and Stan compliments his choice, which quells some of his anxiety as well.

“So what pictures do you want to include?” Bill asks, now in control of the phone, and Eddie’s head spins. 

“Uh...right. Pictures. Forgot about that part,” Eddie says dumbly, fiddling with his thumbs. “I guess just...just look through my Instagram and pick ones you like. I don’t really know what would be good to include.”

So they do, and Mike immediately says he has to include his profile picture, which is of him at a park petting a big, fluffy white dog with a bright smile on his face. And they include a few of his other past profile pictures, a couple of selfies and pictures of him at his high school graduation. Mike suggests including a picture of Eddie in a pool in a big sun hat and sunglasses and Eddie balks, shaking his head.

“No way! I look so fat in that picture.”

“Dude, what? You look awesome. If I was swiping through Tinder and saw that picture, I’d definitely swipe right,” Bill assures him, and Eddie considers it, staring at the photo of himself in his swim trunks while he sits in a pool floaty. He eventually nods, and Bill includes it, offering Eddie an encouraging smile.

Once they’re done, Stan purses his lips. “We should include some pictures of you with friends.”

Eddie cringes, and it must be pretty noticeable, considering that all three of them turn to look at him. “I totally would if I had any,” Eddie replies lightly, and Stan frowns. 

“Well...well then let’s take one of us,” he suggests, and Mike and Bill are already adjusting to pose while Stan pulls the camera up, so Eddie does too, allowing Stan to pull him to the center of the frame. Stan hands the phone to Mike and wraps his arms around Eddie’s neck with a big smile, and Mike uses his long arms to snap a couple of pictures of them all, and Eddie’s heart feels so full looking at the four of them smiling together, like real friends. 

He picks the one he likes best and just like that they’re finished, and Stan turns to him before making it official and submitting it. “Ready?”

“Yes,” Eddie decides before he spends too much time thinking about it, and then he promptly ignores the app for another whole day, until Stan asks if he’s matched with anyone yet the following night. 

“I haven’t started looking,” Eddie admits, and Stan reaches out to pet his hair, which takes Eddie off-guard before he decides that he likes the affection. 

“Just give it a try, Eddie. You don’t have to keep doing it if you don’t like it. But give yourself a chance.” 

So he does, after Mike falls asleep that night, and Eddie finds himself restless. He pulls his blanket over his head to prevent the light from his phone from spilling into the room and starts looking. 

There are a lot of profiles with no bios, which Eddie doesn’t like and promptly ignores. There are a lot more options than he thought there would be, too, since he didn’t realize there was that big of a gay community around here. He swipes right on a handful of cute guys and matches with nearly all of them, which boosts his confidence, but he doesn’t try to message them. Because it’s nearly midnight, and it’s too late. Definitely not because he’s too chicken shit.

He’s just about to call it quits and go to sleep when he swipes to a profile for a guy named Richie, and he almost swipes left immediately because of the first picture that comes up. But he doesn’t. 

It’s a picture of a guy- an admittedly really cute guy- shotgunning a Pabst Blue Ribbon with a joint in his hand. Eddie rolls his eyes but clicks to see the rest of his pictures anyway, and it is very obvious that this guy is  _ not  _ Eddie’s type. Most of his pictures are taken at night with the flash on, with cigarettes in his fingers or hanging from his lips, many of them outdoors, in buildings with Greek letters on the walls, and at parties with more people than Eddie can count in frame. He’s got a few partially visible tattoos, including what looks like “TRASHMTH” stick-and-poked across his knuckles, and Eddie isn’t sure what the hell that’s supposed to mean. He’s got his septum pierced, and his hair is a disaster of curls, and his clothes are mostly black jeans and flannels and t shirts that are more holes than not. But something about his smile and the glint in his eyes draws Eddie in. His eyes are, like, crazy pretty, Eddie decides. The rest of him looks sort of...messy, but man, those eyes. 

He scrolls down and sees that he’s 21, which Eddie figures must mean he’s a third year student, if he’s hanging out at frats. His anthem is a song called  _ Pussy is God _ by an artist called King Princess, which Eddie has never heard before, but he decides he likes it after plugging his headphones into his phone to listen to it. It’s a little...forward, but it’s a vibe, and it’s definitely not what he expected based on the way Richie looks. He expected, like, some obscure pop punk song or something. Or Morrissey, or something equally as gay and angsty. 

He scrolls down to read his bio and the first thing he sees is an emoji of the Bisexual flag, which almost makes Eddie hesitate, because the prospect of competing with all of the attractive gay guys around here is daunting enough, let alone all of the beautiful women on campus. He keeps reading anyway. 

_ If you've got a booty big enough to break my neck and a heart big enough to be diagnosed with acute cardiomegaly, hmu.  _

_ I'm a studio art major so if you're looking for a wealthy and successful future with the artistic, sensitive man of your dreams, keep looking. I am a studio art major and cripplingly emotionally constipated  _

_ Pls stop matching me just to tell me to brush my hair, its gonna start hurting my feelings soon _

He finds himself giggling out loud at that before he remembers that Mike is asleep and he clamps a hand over his mouth, his finger hovering over the ‘like’ icon. This guy is a lot different than most of the well-groomed, preppy guys that he’s matched with so far, but he figures maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe he should explore all of his options, he figures, since he’s new to this. He doesn’t really know what he might want. So he likes Richie before he has the time to talk himself out of it. 

And they match, and Eddie wants to panic squeal but he doesn't, and settles for immediately hitting the lock button on his phone and shoving it under his pillow. 

He hopes that guys can’t see the exact time that he matched with them, because he doesn’t want to seem like a weirdo, prowling Tinder at midnight on a Wednesday night. He doesn’t have too much time to worry about it before he hears a soft chirping coming from under his pillow, and his heart starts hammering in his chest. 

He almost ignores it, almost convinces himself that it’s just a Facebook message or something, even though he knows it isn’t because of how distinctly different the notification sound is. He hesitates for a moment longer before his hand flies under his pillow and his lock screen lights up, alerting him that he has a new Tinder message. 

He honestly might vomit. God, this is so nerve-wracking, how do people do this?

He stares at the notification until the screen times out and goes black again, then presses his thumbprint to the home button and unlocks his phone. And he forgot that he left the app open, so he doesn’t even have time to prepare before the message opens automatically, and he nearly yelps before he remembers Mike sleeping again. 

_ R: I’m sort of convinced that I’m dreaming, but I’m gonna go with it, since I am over the fucking moon rn _

Eddie stares at the message, and the little icon at the top of the screen of Richie’s profile, and an unfamiliar excitement bubbles up in him that has him smiling so dumbly, tucked under his blanket with his phone inches from his face. 

_ E: Why’s that? _

A fucking lame response, but he doesn’t know what the fuck else to say. 

_ R: You are fucking adorable. I’ve been thinking about you since yesterday, but I assumed you probably ran the other way when you saw me _

_ E: Almost did. Saying that you’re not my type would be an understatement, I’ll admit. _

_ R: So what drew you in, cutie? _

_ E: Truthfully? Your eyes. They’re enamoring _

_ R: God, and you’re a hopeless romantic? It’s like all of my fantasies coming to life. _

_ E: Well, I mean, and I like the song you picked. Never heard it before, but it’s good.  _

_ Not what I expected based on your appearance, tho _

_ R: I’m all about that queer representation bb _

_ I literally just changed it yesterday so I guess that was good timing. Before that it was ‘wow i can get sexual too’  _

_ E: Don’t know what that is either lol _

_ R: Another song about sex, because I’m an animal _

_ E: Hmm, maybe I should unmatch, then, so I don’t disappoint you.  _

_ R: I can control myself, promise _

_ E: I’m sort of just trying to meet people, not really looking to casually hook up or anything. _

_ R: Yeah, that’s chill. Probably a good idea if you just came out _

_ E: Yeah, I’m babey gay _

_ R: Sooo does that mean I can’t hit on you at all? Because I’m sort of already planning my proposal _

_ E: No, definitely not. Just wanted to be clear about my intentions. I know a lot of people are just looking for hookups so I didn’t want you to be disappointed. _

_ R: Not even a little.  _

_ What are you doing up so late? You don’t seem like the late night Tindering type _

_ E: Couldn’t sleep. My roommate and his boyfriends were over earlier and started harassing me about not matching anyone yet, so I decided to start looking while I’m just lying here _

_ R: Boyfriends? _

_ E: Yeah, he has two. _

_ R: And they know about each other?? _

_ E: Obviously lol _

_ R: Hot damn.  _

_ Three boyfriends and their newly gay friend spending the night in a dorm room, sounds like the set up for a gangbang porno _

_ God that must be heaven, are they looking for a fourth? _

_ E: Sorry to disappoint, we mostly just do homework and watch TV together.  _

_ They’re all so in love that I don’t think they even see other people tbh  _

_ All they do is make gooey eyes at each other while I do my homework alone on my bed and try not to notice them feeling each other up underneath the blankets _

_ R: Sounds like you need some excitement in your life.  _

_ Is that why you liked me? Need a party Sherpa? _

_ Though if you’re simply looking to be felt up I can absolutely be of service in that regard as well _

_ E: Quite the opposite, actually. I am not a partier at all _

_ R: Why not? Just not your scene?  _

_ E: I’ve never been invited to one _

_ I don’t know why I told you that, wow. That sounded pathetic lol. _

_ R: Not at all, baby doll. Do you want to go to one?  _

_ E: With you? _

_ R: Yeah _

_ E: Uh, sure. Yeah, why not? _

_ R: Cool, do you know where OGR is?  _

_ E: The frat house? I think so _

_ R: You should come by _

_ E: When? _

_ R: Probably soon, they’re packing up for the night in a couple hours _

_ E: I can’t right now! I have class tomorrow! _

_ R: Alright, alright, it was worth a shot _

_ E: Besides, I should...probably get to know you better before agreeing to meet up anyway.  _

_ So. _

_ R: Fair enough, I could be a boy napper after all. _

_ You might get yourself tied up in my basement for all you know _

_ Good to see you’re still practicing stranger danger precautions, your mom must be proud _

_ E: I’m going to ignore all of that sass, so you’re welcome in advance _

_ My mom has literally never once been proud of me so funny joke _

_ R: C’mon baby that can’t be true. _

_ You’re in college, that’s something to be proud of _

_ E: You’d think, for most normal parents _

_ She told me never to come back after I left and that she wasn’t going to ‘enable’ my faggy lifestyle choices any longer _

_ Really earned that ‘World’s Best Mom’ mug I got her in 4 _ _ th _ _ grade _

_ R: Jesus Christ, she sounds like a fucking cunt _

_ No offense, sorry _

_ That’s your mom, shouldn’t have said that. My bad _

_ E: Lol it’s cool she is a cunt.  _

_ Think I’m realizing it now that I’m away from her _

_ Let’s stop talking about all my childhood trauma, it’s not a vibe _

_ R: Okay, wanna talk about mine? _

_ E: I sort of want to know some normal things about you first _

_ R: What do you want to know? I’m an open book, baby _

_ E: Are you a third year? _

_ R: Yeah, technically, though I’m like a semester behind so it’s more like 2.5 year _

_ E: What kind of art do you do?  _

_ Like are you a painter or what? _

_ R: I mostly draw with pencils, though I dabble in painting and digital too.  _

_ The piece of mine that’s up in the university gallery I did with charcoals. _

_ E: You have a piece in the gallery?? _

_ R: Don’t get too impressed, champ. It was for a class project _

_ E: That’s still really cool.  _

_ So you’re like good then?  _

_ R: I like to think I’m decent lol _

_ E: I’m terrible at art _

_ R: No such thing.  _

_ E: I fucking beg to differ.  _

_ I failed art in high school.  _

_ Failed.  _

_ ART. _

_ R: Well you’re more of a writer anyway, right?  _

_ E: No way, my friend Bill is super talented tho _

_ I’m trash. _

_ R: Then why English? _

_ E: Don’t know what I want to do with my life _

_ R: Neither do I, that’s why I just picked something I like doing.  _

_ E: Too bad I can’t major in staying indoors and reading and being alone _

_ Not a very lucrative career path. _

_ R: You’re real hard on yourself, huh?  _

_ Relax baby doll.  _

_ Nobody knows what they want to do with their lives in college.  _

_ People who do are weird _

_ You seem really high strung for being a freshman.  _

_ This is the time to figure out who you are and shit  _

_ Nobody has that shit figured out before they get to college sweetheart _

_ E: Sorry, I’m just an anxious person. _

_ R: Loosen up a little, Eddie my love  _

_ You need to have some fun.  _

_ E: Wish I knew how _

_ R: Well, guess I arrived at just the right time then, huh? _

They end up exchanging phone numbers and texting constantly, often exchanging memes and chatting from whenever Richie wakes up until Eddie goes to bed. And it’s nice. Eddie really likes him, more than he thought he would. He’s funny and interesting and so different than anybody else that Eddie has ever met. And that’s nice, because most of the people Eddie knew before college were boring or homophobic or just bad people. And Richie is sort of rough around the edges, but he’s really sweet and kind to Eddie, and it makes him feel giddy. 

Richie sends him a lot of pictures, too, so Eddie starts doing the same. It’s all just random stuff, mostly Richie sends him pictures and videos of dogs around campus and really blurry, out of focus selfies of him in various places, stuff like that. And Eddie will send back selfies of himself (that he always takes multiples of so that he can pick the best one), pictures of his coffees from the campus cafe in the mornings, pictures of his homework, photos of where he’s walking around campus. And Richie always compliments him: “You look so cute today, baby doll,” “I love that sweater on you,” “Your eyes are so beautiful.” And it’s casual, but it makes Eddie hot all over his body. He decides he really likes pet names, too. He didn’t think he’d be that kind of guy, but whenever Richie calls him “baby doll” or “love” or “sweetheart,” he gets all flustered and giggly and smiles like a dumb ass while he’s walking around campus. 

He never sees Richie around campus, and he’s definitely looking, even though he tries to be casual about it. But it’s not like they’d be in anywhere near any of the same kind of classes, so he tries not to get his hopes up. Besides, he thinks he would probably have a full-fledged panic attack if he ran into Richie unexpectedly, so it’s probably a blessing. 

So he settles for Richie’s messages with pictures of parts of campus that he doesn’t ever need to go to, because he has no reason to ever be near the art studio, or the upperclassmen apartments, or the radio station, or really anywhere other than the halls in which the Gen Ed classes are taught, since that’s all he’s taking for now anyway. And it’s a nice little system, and Eddie appreciates what they have. 

But one day, he sends Eddie a video of a pretty redheaded girl poking a tattoo of a peach into his thigh on the floor of his apartment, and Eddie’s heart sinks. 

“Beverly Anne Marsh, you are fucking hurting me,” Richie laughs from behind the camera, and Eddie’s heart flutters at the sound of his voice. They haven’t called on the phone yet, so Eddie isn’t quite  _ familiar _ with it, but sometimes in the videos Richie sends, he’ll speak and Eddie’s heart soars at the sound. Now it feels a little tainted by the fact that Eddie is worried that this girl might be someone special to him, and he feels anxious.

“You’re such a fucking pussy,” she replies with a playful smirk, glancing up briefly from where her fingers are working over Richie’s skin to flash her pretty green eyes at the camera. 

“I am always gentle with you. You stab at me like I fucking did something to you and you’re enacting revenge.”

“Because you did, and I am. You’re an asshole to me constantly, I just save up all my anger until you want me to poke you and release it all at once.”

“I’m gonna be bleeding for, like, days at this rate.”

“Well stop moving so much.”

“I’ve literally been so still this whole time, you’re just a fucking butcher.”

Beverly motions like she’s going to stab the needle into Richie’s leg and the video cuts out halfway through Richie shrieking, which has Eddie laughing despite his nerves.

He bites the inside of his cheek before replying, deciding to send a video himself as he’s walking to the dining hall to get lunch. He’ll just play it off, because Richie isn’t his boyfriend, and he doesn’t have a right to be jealous. He knows that.

“I know we don’t know each other, but honestly, do it harder; I’m sure he deserves it. For real though, that looks really good. I’d totally pay you to give me one sometime,” Eddie adds that last part without thinking and freaks once he does, but decides to send it anyway, because he doesn’t want to seem lame. Beverly is cool, Beverly has stick-and-poke tattoos. Eddie could do that too.

Moments later, Richie sends another video, and Eddie takes a breath before watching it. This one has both of their faces in frame, and Richie looks mock-offended before Eddie even presses ‘play.’ 

“Okay, first of all, Edward, I’m a fucking angel. I don’t do things wrong. And second, Bevvie here is my bestest-estest friend in the whole wide world,” Richie makes kissy faces at her and hooks an arm around her shoulders, and she promptly shoves him away with an eye roll. “Besides, my work is way fucking better than her hack job ass shit; you should let me do it, if anything,” he adds defensively, and Beverly scoffs. 

“As fucking if, the fucking daisy you did on my shoulder looks like a fucking three year old did it.”

“That was my first one, you dick! I’m awesome now. Show him your plum,” Richie tells her, smacking her on the thigh.

“Rich, out of context, that sounds incredibly sus.”

“Fuck off, you know what I mean.”

Beverly flips him off before hiking her shorts up to reveal a little plum on her thigh, which Eddie has to admit does look better than what Beverly has done on Richie so far. 

“I did that shit, tell me that’s not good. You can’t. I’m a fucking master,” Richie argues, zooming in and out over and over again on the small tattoo until Beverly smacks him and the video stops. 

Eddie decides not to send another video because he’s nearly to the dining hall already, and quickly texts back instead. 

_ E: Okay, yeah, that looks pretty good. _

_ Why a peach and a plum tho?  _

_ R: It’s from Bev’s favorite song _

_ ‘You are my peach, you are my plum, you are my earth, you are my sun.’  _

_ It’s some gay ass song by this band she loves idk  _

_ I thought it was cute so I agreed _

_ E: That’s really sweet _

_ You guys must be really close. _

_ R: Bet your sweet, sweet, beautiful ass. She’s like my sister. _

_ E: Did she do your knuckles too? _

_ R: Yeah, that one was a fucking mistake. It hurt so fucking bad I had to get drunk and pass out so she could finish. _

_ E: What does it even stand for? _

_ R: Trashmouth  _

_ It’s a nickname she gave me when we first met _

_ E: Fitting. _

_ R: Ouch, Edward. Ouch.  _

_ E: I kind of want a tattoo of a little bee. Is that something you could do? _

_ R: Where? _

_ E: My hip, or maybe my thigh _

_ R: God yes any reason to get to touch you there _

_ E: Relax, you’re salivating. _

_ R: Can’t help it, babe. You’re a fucking dime. _

He knows he’s probably falling a bit too fast too hard, which Stan warns him against. “Don’t look at this guy like a shiny new toy. He’s the first guy you’ve even really talked to.” And that’s true, but Eddie doesn’t tell him that he isn’t really planning on there being any other guys. Not for now, at least, because Eddie deleted Tinder from his phone. And he feels weird about it, so he doesn’t tell anyone, because he doesn’t want to seem clingy already. He definitely doesn’t want Richie to think he’s clingy, since they haven’t even hung out yet, and Eddie is sure that Richie is probably still talking to and hooking up with other people. Which is okay, because he’s allowed to, and Eddie never said he wanted to be anything more than friends. But Eddie really likes him, and doesn’t really want to talk to anyone else. 

They try to make plans for nearly two weeks, but Eddie chickens out twice, and two other times Richie gets called into work. So Eddie starts stressing that they’re never going to get to meet up at all, but Richie doesn’t seem too bothered by it, so he doesn’t want to press the issue.

Halloween is coming up, and he sort of wants to ask Richie if he wants to do something together, but Richie probably already has plans because he’s popular and people like him, and Eddie doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable when he inevitably has to turn him down. But as it turns out, he doesn’t have to ask anyway, because Richie asks him first.

_ R: Do you have plans for Halloween, spooky ghost boy? _

_ E: Hm...was kinda just planning on sitting in my dorm and gorging myself on halloween candy and spooky movies by myself.  _

_ What about you? _

_ R: Going to a party that I was kinda sorta hoping you’d maybe come to?  _

_ E: I donno Rich, already had pretty big plans, as you can see. _

_ R: I think you’ll survive if you leave your dorm for one night, Eds.  _

_ Come on, pretty please?  _

_ I’m starting to think you don’t want to hang out at all.  _

_ E: I do! I'm just not a partier. I'll slow you down  _

_ R: Are you practicing for halloween? Because you’ve been ghosting me hard _

_ E: I haven’t been ghosting you!! I’m just _

_ Really nervous and socially awkward _

_ And fatter than I look in my pictures _

_ R: I already know you’re awkward and it hasn’t scared me away yet _

_ Also, I’m not convinced that you have a fat roll on your body, but if you do, I am very into lil thickies so if anything you’re helping my argument _

_ I’m bi so I’m an ass man on principle, telling me you have more ass than I anticipated isn’t going to deter me _

_ E: Idkkkk I’ve never been to like a real party before _

_ Where is it? _

_ R: OGR _

_ E: So you want my first party ever to be a frat party? _

_ R: It’ll be fun! Live a little! _

_ E: Is it a costume party? _

_ R: Duh _

_ E: IF I come, what are you gonna do for me? _

_ R: Literally anything you want _

_ E: Anything I want?  _

_ That’s a dangerous game to play, Richard. _

_ R: Should I be scared? Or erect? Because I can do either, or both _

_ E: I want you to take me to the gallery on campus and show me your art work _

_ R: Deal. Deal deal deal _

_ So you’ll come?  _

_ E: I suppose...I don’t have a costume to wear tho :( _

_ R: You have to dress up! If you don’t I will cry _

_ I’ll CRY Eds you have to  _

_ E: Uugghhh fine I’ll figure something out _

_ R: You should bring some friends too _

_ More the merrier _

_ E: Yeah totally _

_ I’ll bring some friends from my lit class _

_ R: Awesome. I’m so excited  _

_ E: I’m incredibly nervous and a little scared _

_ R: Relax, baby doll. Just calm down and let yourself have fun _

_ E: I don’t know her _

_ R: Clearly _

_ Hoping you’ll get acquainted on spooky night tho _

_ E: Is your plan to get me drunk enough to fuck you? _

_ R: If I have to _

_ E: … _

_ R: I’m kidding Eds jesus _

_ Just drunk enough to have some fun and shake your ass for me _

_ If anything I want you to be extra sober when I fuck you so you’ll remember how good my dick game is and I can use it as grounds to cuff you before you run away _

_ E: So that’s your end goal here? Catch me in your trap before the cold weather sets in? _

_ R: Just saying Eds, spending all winter cuddling in my nice, private bedroom in my apartment, looking out at the snow while I make you cum over and over and over again...sounds pretty good to me _

_ E: Do I at least get bathroom and food breaks somewhere in between loads? _

_ R: Hell no, that’s pussy shit _

_ You cum until you die or you’re not a real man point blank period _

_ E: Fair enough _

_ R: How many friends are you planning on bringing? _

_ E: 2 _

_ R: Girls? _

_ E: Yeah why _

_ R: Girls get in easy, there’s a limit on dudes. _

_ That whole girl to guy ratio cliché about frat parties is for real  _

_ Kind of stupid imo but I’m a queerbo so I guess my opinion doesn’t count _

_ E: Great, so am I gonna be the only gay guy there? _

_ R: Noo no no. Not at all. _

_ There are a few queer guys in OGR I’m just being a dramatic bitch _

_ The straight ones are just like Straight so they're pretty highkey about how many guys get in _

_ E: Surprising that a frat has multiple out members, never heard of that _

_ R: It’s nearly 2020, Eddie my love.  _

_ Being straight is a trend that’ll be left behind with the passing decade _

_ E: That sounds borderline heterophobic lol _

_ R: Oh what the fuck ever they’ve had centuries it’s our turn now _

_ I don’t have a problem with straight people, I have lots of straight friends.  _

_ I just don’t want to hear about it, you know? Keep it to yourself _

_ E: Gear up then, I’m sure there’s gonna be lots of hetero going on at this party _

_ R: There’s gonna be a lot of everything going on, baby doll.  _

_ Don’t chicken out _

_ E: I’m not gonna chicken out!!!! _

_ I promise _

_ R: Lovely. Can’t wait to see those pretty brown eyes in person. _

Eddie is absolutely not bringing friends. The only friends he could bring are the trio, and they definitely would not want to come. But he also doesn’t want to seem like a loser with no friends, so whatever. He’ll figure it out. 

He’s got to figure out a costume now, too, which is stressing him out considering he can’t exactly drive himself into town to go shopping. He can’t go without or else that’s just proving to Richie that he’s lame and can’t have fun, so he decides to ask Stan, because Stan really seems like he wants this whole dating thing to work out for Eddie, and he’s hoping Stan won’t ask too many questions about the party. So he asks him at lunch on the Monday before Halloween, because the anxiety of having so little time left to prepare is killing him.

“Is there any way you’d be willing to take me shopping? Just for, like, an hour. I need a Halloween costume. I’m going to a Halloween party.”

Stan glances up from his phone and shrugs, his fingers still typing quickly. “Sure, no problem. Didn’t know you were going to a party, though. Are you going with that guy from Tinder?”

“Um, yeah. He invited me a few days ago. It sounded like fun,” Eddie replies stiffly, and Stan’s brow furrows as he’s typing, still staring down at his phone screen.

“Where is the party?”

“Um...Omega Gamma Rho,” Eddie replies softly, and Stan pauses briefly before he finishes typing and turns his full attention to Eddie.

“Sorry I was emailing my professor, did you say a frat house?” Stan asks, that same furrow still in his brow, and Eddie shrinks slightly under his downright fatherly gaze.

“Uh, y-yes.”

“You sure that’s a good idea, Eddie? You don’t think that’ll be too much for you?”

“No, I’ll be fine. I’ve already thought about it and I really think it’ll be good for me more than anything. I need to loosen up a little and learn to have fun, you know? So I think it’ll be good for me.”

Stan tilts his head, biting his lip in thought. “Do you want me to come? You shouldn’t go alone.”

Eddie panics, shaking his head frantically before the same lie he told Richie comes tumbling from his lips. “No, it’s okay. I won’t be alone. There are a couple of girls from my lit class who are going too and asked if we could group up, so I’m good.”

“These are girls that you trust?” Stan asks seriously, and Eddie shifts in his seat.

“Yeah, they’re really nice. They’re cool.”

“Just be safe, Eddie.”

“I will.”

Stan ends up taking him the next day, and he anxiously wanders around the Halloween store for 20 minutes, aimlessly looking over costumes while he has an internal panic attack. Stan lets it go on until he clearly can’t anymore, and gently grabs Eddie’s arm, breaking him out of his anxious thoughts. 

“Do you want some help with ideas?”

“God yes, please, I don’t know what the fuck to wear,” Eddie admits, running a hand through his hair before dragging it down his face, trying to avoid Stan’s paternal expression.

“Well do you wanna go with scary? Cute? Sexy? What’s the vibe?” 

Eddie pauses, biting his cheek. “I guess cute? Or...or sexy. I want- I want to, you know, like...impress him,” Eddie admits with a blush, and Stan smiles sweetly at him, smoothing down a lock of his hair. 

“So why not do a classic and go with, like, sexy cheerleader or sexy nurse or something?” 

“I feel like that’s too...on the nose.”

Stan looks around the store, glancing over the rows of packaged costumes before sighing. “All these costumes suck.”

“Yeah…” Eddie agrees. “And they’re all, like, expensive. I really like the witch hats, but there aren’t any witch costumes that I like, so…”

“So...okay, so how about this,” Stan begins, and proceeds to bring Eddie over to the racks of individual costume pieces. He picks out a black witch’s hat with a large bow, and a wand, and hands them to Eddie. 

“You don’t have to buy a whole costume, it’s a frat party. We’ll just find something in your wardrobe to go with these, no big deal. You have lots of clothes that could easily be converted into a witchy costume.”

“Okay, yeah. Do you think that’s good enough? It’s not gonna look like I half-assed it?” Eddie asks anxiously, and Stan purses his lips. 

“No, I think you’ll look cute, but something like…” Stan trails off before grabbing a package of fishnet tights off of the wall. “These will firmly categorize you as ‘sexy,’ if that’s the vibe.”

Eddie hesitates for a moment before taking them from Stan’s hand, nodding his head resolutely. “Okay, yeah. Let’s go.”

Eddie spends all day Wednesday in an anxious tizzy, finding himself so unable to focus in lecture that his notes are mostly garbled gibberish. Thursday is worse, even though he can officially be excited that it’s Halloween, but Richie keeps texting him about how excited he is, so Eddie knows that he really, really can’t ditch this time. 

_ R: I can’t wait for the party dude. There are gonna be a fuck ton of people showing up so make sure you get there pretty early tonight so you don’t get capped at the door _

_ E: You promise people are dressing up?  _

_ This isn’t gonna be like Mean Girls where I show up to the party and everyone else isn’t dressed up right? _

_ R: Okay first of all, that isn’t what happens. Cady shows up in a scary costume while everyone else is dressed as like slutty cats and shit. Second, there are definitely going to be a majority of slutty costumes, yes _

_ E: Oh whatever, I’ve only ever seen that movie once _

_ R: Are you fucking serious? _

_ E: Are YOU serious?? _

_ R: I love that movie. I will not be shamed by you.  _

_ E: That’s so gay _

_ R: “Too bi to function” doesn’t have quite the same ring to it _

_ E: Definitely an accurate criticism of you, tho.  _

_ How am I supposed to find you when I get there? _

_ R: I’m DJing so I’ll probably be floating around the booth mostly.  _

_ Try to come before 11:30 _

_ E: You’re DJing????? _

_ R: Yeah, I usually do  _

_ E: You didn’t tell me that _

_ R: Ehh didn’t think it was relevant.  _

_ It’s pretty boring and easy compared to doing the radio show but it’s basically getting paid to drink for free and go to parties _

_ I’m there all the time anyway so _

_ Honestly it’s just an excuse to play music I want to hear at parties _

_ E: If you’re at OGR so often why not just join at that point _

_ R: It’s a big commitment that I’m not willing to make, plus I don’t want to live there, plus they’d stop paying me to DJ their parties  _

_ Really it’s in my best interest to manipulate them into friendship so I can continue to get paid to be a functioning alcoholic _

_ E: At least you’re honest _

_ R: I’m nothing if not extremely self-aware _

_ I keep telling you I’m an asshole and yet you seem surprised  _

_ E: Because you’re not _

_ I see through your douchey party boy façade _

_ You’re a squishy lil soft boy _

_ R: Or so I’ve successfully fooled you into believing. _

By the time night falls, Eddie is so anxious that he feels like he’s vibrating. He’s lying on his bed trying to calm himself down when the trio gets home from a date, and he doesn’t even have the energy to pretend that he isn’t freaking the fuck out.

“You okay, Eddie?” Mike asks once he opens the door, allowing Stan and Bill to pile into the room before he locks it behind them. Eddie cracks an eye open to see all three of them considering him cautiously, and he groans, dragging his hands over his face.

"I am so fucking nervous about this stupid fucking party. Am I an asshole if I don’t go? Like if I just ghost him entirely and hope I never see him around campus until he graduates?”

“Yes, that would definitely make you an asshole,” Stan laughs, sitting on Eddie’s bed to pet comfortingly through his hair.

“What are you so nervous about, Eddie? I thought you said this guy is really great,” Bill asks, concern furrowing his brow that makes Eddie feel like a dramatic bitch because he is one.

“He is! He is. It’s not so much him I’m worried about. It’s more, like, the crippling fear of rejection and making a fool of myself. Like more than anything I’m worried that I’m gonna get there and he’s gonna see me and be like ‘wow, this is disappointing.’ Like... it’s not like I facetune all of my pictures to make myself look like a model or anything, but I definitely make a conscious effort to look more flattering on camera, you know? I’m not exactly Timothee Chalamet,” Eddie rambles, sitting up in his bed to tug his fingers through his hair.

“Oh, come on. You’re fucking gorgeous Eddie. I’m not just saying that because we’re friends, okay? Ask Bill, I literally said when we left after meeting you for the first time that you are super hot and that I was nervous about Mike rooming with you,” Stan tells him, and Bill nods in confirmation.

“Right, I don’t think I’m exactly Mike’s type, Stan. I’m not 6 feet tall and skinny and infuriatingly handsome. I think you’re safe there.”

Stan sighs, brushing a hand through his blonde curls in exasperation.

“Alright, I’m done with all of the self-deprecation, okay? You’re going to get up out of that bed, and I’m going to help you get ready, and you’re going to look fucking hot and totally woo your Tinder boy, okay? You’re going to have fun tonight, Eddie,” Stan says firmly, with all of the conviction of a father going over the itinerary for a family vacation.

Eddie groans again but stands up regardless, and Stan starts grabbing clothes from his wardrobe.

Bill and Mike lie together on Mike’s bed and mostly laugh the entire time that Stan is shoving Eddie into various outfits before pulling them off, and Eddie’s entire bed is a mess of fabric nearly an hour later.

“Okay! Okay, what about…what about this? Why don’t you ever wear this?” Stan asks him, holding up a black long-sleeved crop top.

“It’s just tight on me,” Eddie tells him, still dressed in Stan’s most recently abandoned outfit idea.

“Well good, tight is sexy, you’re going for sexy, right? So…put this on. And…and put your tights on, and these,” Stan tells him, tossing Eddie’s black high-waist shorts at him as well.

Eddie sighs but starts stripping anyway, after ordering the three of them to look away. The shorts that Stan tossed to him are also very tight on him, so he’s sure that he’s going to look like a sausage stuffed into a too-small casing. He’s so out of shape. Ugh.

He hesitates for a moment before pulling his underwear off as well, knowing that it would make him look like a lumpy disaster. He rolls the fishnet tights that Stan picked out up his legs and pulls the shorts on after, fully expecting them not to button. Surprisingly they do, and Eddie feels a little good about that. Maybe he hasn’t gained as much weight as he thought. Then again, maybe he has, because they’re already riding up his thighs and hugging around his ass more than he remembers them doing before.

He pulls the crop top on last and smooths himself out before telling the trio that they can look again, and when they do, the looks on their faces make him blush.

“W-What? Is it bad? Can you see my love handles?” Eddie asks anxiously, tugging the shorts down slightly at the hem.

“You look fucking hot as shit,” Bill says bluntly, and Eddie barks out a laugh, because Bill is the last person that he would expect to say that.

“Alright, calm down,” Stan scolds him, slapping Bill on the shoulder when his gaze is still lingering over Eddie’s body.

“I vote this one. You look awesome, Eddie,” Mike tells him, also still checking Eddie out, albeit less obviously than Bill, who is still earning himself a glare from Stan.

“I don’t know. These-these shorts are from, like, my sophomore year in high school. I was cute and skinny back then; now I’m just…fat in all the wrong places,” Eddie tells them, and Stan looks like he wants to scream.

“You are not fat, Eddie! Jesus Christ, if you think you’re fat now, I can’t imagine what you considered ‘cute and skinny’ to be,” He tells him in frustration, though he looks sort of worried, so Eddie shuts his mouth. “Just go look in the mirror before you decide, okay? If you really think you look bad, we can figure something else out, but…I’m pretty sure this is the one.”

Eddie sighs and tugs on the witch’s hat before walking over to the mirror on the back of their door, and he freezes when he sees his reflection. He was fully expecting to hate this, but he has to admit that he looks pretty nice. Everything is definitely tight, but it must be so tight that it’s smoothing his body out. His legs even look sort of  _ long  _ in these fishnets, which is not something he thinks he’s ever experienced before. The only thing he finds himself really hesitating about is the strip of skin around his tummy showing where the crop top ends and before the band of his shorts begins, but he supposes he can get over that, since it only really rolls when he bends over in the mirror.

He’s startled out of his thoughts when Stan tosses a pair of shoes at his feet, and Eddie steps into them right away. They’re these black booties that he got a while ago and never really wore because he didn’t have an occasion to, so now seems like a better time than any to bust them out.

He honestly hasn’t liked an outfit on himself this much in- well, maybe ever. So he turns around and regards the trio with what he’s sure is a big, stupid smile, giving Stan a thumbs up that Stan returns.

“You like it?” Stan asks happily, and Eddie nods.

“I really do. It looks great. Thank you so much for your help, Stan.”

“Come here, I still have time to paint your nails and do your makeup if we hurry.”

Stan paints Eddie’s nails this pretty, deep purple color that he himself was wearing the first time Eddie ever met him. He does some very light makeup, too; just some mascara and eyeliner that make his eyes look even huger than they usually do. He puts a little purple glitter around Eddie’s eyes before declaring his masterpiece complete, and Eddie feels nearly giddy, nearly  _ excited  _ for the party now.

“Okay, get going, stud. You don’t want to be too late,” Stan tells him, and Eddie checks his phone to see that it’s nearly quarter past eleven already. He has a text from Richie that just says “I’m here,” and Eddie’s heart flutters so hard that he feels lightheaded with nerves all over again. But they don’t feel scary, this time.

“Okay, yeah. I’m gonna leave my wallet and keys here, will you guys be awake later to let me in if I call?”

“Yeah, definitely. Call if you need anything, okay?” Bill tells him, and Eddie feels warm in his chest.

“’I will. Thank you guys so much,” he tells them before putting his phone in his pocket and heading towards the door.

“Wait! Your wand,” Mike calls, tossing it to Eddie where he is nearly out the door. He nods appreciatively and shoves it into his back pocket.

“Be safe, Eddie. Have fun. Stick with your friends, okay? Buddy system,” Stan tells him, and Eddie feels a knot of guilt tie up in his stomach, but he nods nonetheless.

“I will. Gotta meet up with them now, though, so we aren’t late. See you guys later,” Eddie waves before closing the door behind him, shaking off the weight of his lie as he starts down the hallway.

He sees quite a few students in costume milling about campus as he makes his way to the frat house, many of them clearly already shitfaced. He gets wolf-whistled at a few times but he ignores it, nearly running to the other side of campus where the OGR house is.

There’s a long line when he gets there, and his stomach sinks. Richie said to get there before 11:30 for a reason, clearly. He anxiously stands up on his tiptoes to see if the line is moving at all, but he can barely see two people ahead of him.

He pulls his phone out and texts Richie, who has already texted him asking where he is.

_ E: Sorry, took longer to get here than I thought. In line now, my friends are already inside so I’m by myself tho _

_ R: Okay, I’ll come get you when I have a second _

Eddie’s fingers are shaking when he places his phone back into his pocket, nervously shuffling his feet as the line inches forward. It doesn’t take as long as he thought it would to get to the front, but when he does, the look that the door man gives him does not inspire hope.

“How many in your group?” He asks after looking Eddie up and down from behind his long, dark hair, with eyes so dark that they look black. He’s dressed as the Grim Reaper, and Eddie can’t help thinking it’s a fitting costume, with the way that he looks so thin under the costume’s robes.

“Um, just me,” Eddie says awkwardly, craning his neck to see if he can see Richie inside.

“Just you? You didn’t bring any girls with you? You’re supposed to bring two girls. Two girls per dude.”

Eddie panics, feeling his neck go sweaty. Of course lying is going to fuck him over.

“I came here with two girls, they just got here before me. I was running late. But I am with two girls,” Eddie frantically explains further, and the door man cocks an eyebrow at him.

“You just said you’re here alone.”

“Well, I mean, yeah, I am technically alone right now, am I not? I mean, Jesus Christ, I’m not gonna move in on any of the girls here, trust me. I am very gay, I’m not any competition,” Eddie defends, getting sassier than he should, but he has never been great at reacting when he’s called out on a lie.

“Sorry, man, that’s the rule. Find your friends and then get back in line.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep.”

Eddie is about to lose it when the door opens and a person who can only be Richie pops his head out, scanning the crowd before his eyes fall on Eddie. He smiles and opens the door wider, and Eddie can hear music playing loudly from inside, and he smiles wide and waves like a dumb ass.

“Wow, holy shit,” is the first thing Richie says to him, and Eddie rolls his eyes but he can’t stop smiling.

“Shut up.”

“Come inside,” Richie reaches for his hand, but the door man stops him, blocking Eddie with his scythe.

“You know the rule, Richie, come on.”

“Are you fucking serious Patrick? I mean, Jesus Christ, I know you’re dressed as death but that doesn’t mean you have to kill my fucking vibe, dude.”

“Fuck off, asshole. I don’t make the rules.”

“You sure do enforce them, though, so how about you don’t this one fucking time? I mean come on. The other two are already inside,” Richie defends, and the door man, Patrick, rolls his dark eyes.

“Sure they are.”

“They are, I talked to them. They came and told me Eddie was on his way and he was running late. Sabrina and Kate, lovely girls, those two,” Richie lies, and Eddie bites back a laugh. “Sabrina is totally your type, too; blonde, big titties, long legs. Sure would be a shame if I had to pass along to her that you’re being a total doucher to her friend.”

“For fucks sake, fine. But you have to go find Vic and tell him to come take over, I’m not dealing with a million fucking people asking me to break the rules for them, too,” he grumbles, and Richie daps him up before tugging him into a man-hug.

“That’s my boy,” he praises, throwing a finger gun at him before he grabs Eddie by the wrist to pull him inside.

Eddie goes immediately, avoiding the door man’s eyes as he passes, though he definitely feels him glaring at him from underneath his hood. Once the door closes behind them, Richie leads Eddie into a stairwell before he turns around, taking a moment to properly look Eddie over, and Eddie shifts his legs awkwardly under Richie’s gaze.

“God damn, how are you so beautiful? I mean, Jesus. I almost wish you hadn’t dressed up because all of my usual charm and arrogance is being sucked out of me the longer I look at you,” Richie tells him with a smirk, and Eddie rolls his eyes again, crossing his arms over his chest.

He looks up at Richie and musters up as much of a scowl as he can, though he’s sure it isn’t very intimidating, based on how Richie’s dopey smile only gets wider, if anything.

“And what the fuck are you dressed as, asshole? You said you were gonna dress up, but you’re just wearing normal fucking clothes. If you’re going for Paul Bunyan, you’ve gotta try harder than wearing a flannel and being a fucking giant,” Eddie bitches, and Richie laughs, brushing his hair away from his neck to show Eddie two small red dots there.

“I’m Marshall Lee from Adventure Time! Come on, Eds, cut me some slack, okay? We can’t all be sexy little moon children like you,” he defends, reaching forward to pull Eddie into his chest, and Eddie pretends that he doesn’t notice the way Richie has to bend over to speak into his ear.

“I’m so glad you came,” he says earnestly, and Eddie is smiling like a dumb ass again, pressing his face into Richie’s chest to hide it. That makes it worse, though, because all he can smell is Richie’s scent there, like pine and smoke and something earthy that he can’t quite place, like sandalwood or patchouli.

“I’m glad I did too. I almost didn’t. Ironically I couldn’t decide what to wear. My roommate’s boyfriend put all this together, so really, I shouldn’t take any of the credit.”

“God, remind me to write him a thank you note, because this feels like a fucking gift,” Richie tells him, pulling away to look Eddie up and down again. “Am I allowed to check out your ass yet, or do I have to wait for an appropriate amount of time to pass first?”

“Go wild,” Eddie giggles, and Richie pumps a fist in the air before he ushers Eddie toward the staircase, presumably taking a moment to check out his ass based on the quiet ‘jesus, fuck,’ that he mutters under his breath. He places his hand on Eddie’s lower back and guides him down the stairs, and Eddie tries to ignore the way his body feels like it’s on fire with the contact, but it’s hard not to notice it when Richie’s fingers brush against his ass with every bouncing step that they take downwards.

“It’s gonna be loud,” Richie warns, and Eddie can already hear the blaring music from where they’re standing outside of the basement door. He nods, and Richie pulls the door open, and Eddie feels like he’s in another fucking world.

There are people fucking everywhere. Honestly, he’s surprised that they’re still letting people in, because they have to be over their capacity already, judging on the sea of people already on the dancefloor. He hesitates at the door, feeling his crowd anxiety rush over him, and Richie notices immediately.

“It’s okay, we’re gonna go up to the booth,” he says, and Eddie nods, allowing Richie to step behind him and hold him around the hips as he guides Eddie through the thick crowd.

The whole way across the floor, people are waving to Richie and greeting him, and Eddie realizes just how popular he must be, and how it’s probably going to be pretty obvious soon that he didn’t actually bring any friends with him. He tries not to think about it too much as they make their way to the DJ booth, which is raised up over the crowd, and Richie lifts Eddie up by the waist and hoists him over the side by his ass before lifting himself up after.

“You just wanted a reason to grab my ass,” Eddie accuses with a smirk that he can’t contain, and Richie puts his hands up.

“Guilty as charged. Though I kind of regret it because it gave me a boner, so I guess I played myself,” he admits, and Eddie throws his head back with a laugh, noticing the way Richie is smiling at him fondly while he does it.

“You’re seriously so gorgeous. Like I thought maybe your pictures were deceiving, but you are even more beautiful in person. It’s like I’m looking at something I shouldn’t get to see,” Richie tells him, reaching out to pull Eddie’s hips into his again, and Eddie decides he very much likes how handsy he is already, based on how excitement zips through him every time Richie touches him.

“Wow, I’ve never had a guy tell me that I’m so beautiful that he feels unworthy of looking at me. Very romantic of you. Are you gonna come stand outside of my window and read me courtship poems later too?” Eddie teases, because he feels so overwhelmed and flattered by the attention that it’s almost too much for him to handle.

“I might, don’t tempt me. I played Romeo in my high school production, I can go all ‘But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks’ on your ass in a heartbeat.”

“Do you remember that whole…thing? Soliloquy? I don’t know anything about theater,” Eddie admits, and Richie laughs cheerfully.

“I remember, like, every line from that play. It’s a real panty dropper when you can just bust out ‘oh, speak again, bright angel’ type shit at the drop of a hat.”

“Who knew the party boy was such a big softie? Oh, that’s right, me. I did,” Eddie jokes, looking up at Richie through his lashes, and the way Richie is staring back down at him like they’re the only two people in the room, regardless of the loud music and the people everywhere, makes Eddie’s breath catch in his throat. He wants to say something else, but Richie seems  _ very _ occupied with staring into his eyes, so he decides not to ruin the moment quite yet.

“Two of the fairest stars in all the heavens,” Richie eventually states, bringing a hand up to brush his thumb under Eddie’s eye fondly, and Eddie has no idea how to respond, for fucks sake. This type of shit doesn’t happen to him, he’s never been in this position before.

“T-Thank you,” he eventually manages to get out, and Richie keeps just  _ staring  _ at him like he’s a fucking piece of art or something, until he eventually licks his lips and his eyes flick down to Eddie’s lips and Eddie’s brain fucking short circuits so hard that he can barely form a coherent thought, and his brain is just going  _ Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!  _ Over and over again.

But Richie doesn’t kiss him. He just caresses Eddie’s cheek before he pulls away, and Eddie feels crushing disappointment wash over him so suddenly that it makes his knees buckle. Maybe he did something wrong. Maybe he didn’t seem into it, or maybe Richie was waiting for him to move first.

Richie fucks with some shit on the mess of nobs and buttons in front of him and as the song that’s playing ends, it fades out, and he picks up a microphone. “Vic, you gotta go switch out with Patrick. Hey, man, don’t get mad at me, I don’t call the shots, I’m just passing a message along. I’m sure the lovely lady that you’re with is willing to wait for you to come back, aren’t you, sweetheart? See? It’s all good, go do your fucking job you lazy piece of shit,” Richie finishes before another song starts playing, and the crowd is still laughing at the exchange, Eddie included.

“That was mean,” Eddie comments, though he’s still giggling, and Richie shrugs.

“Whatever, man, he flipped me off like it’s my fault! I didn’t make him join a god damn frat,” Richie grumbles, which makes Eddie giggle again.

“You have the cutest laugh,” Richie tells him with another fond smile, and Eddie blushes and scoffs in disbelief.

“Now I know you’re just trying to get in my pants.”

“I’m a fucking gentleman, I don’t fuck on the first date.”

“That is the most unbelievable thing I think you’ve ever said to me, which is saying a lot.”

“I don’t! I mean, I don’t usually ask people out on dates, so I guess that might technically be cheating, but when I do I firmly stick to the three dates rule.”

“So boning people at parties doesn’t count?”

“Well, I mean, if someone is looking to get fucked at a party, they’re just as much of a degenerate as I am so no, that doesn’t count,” Richie defends, and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“So is this a date? Or is this you trying to peel me out of these shorts later?” Eddie asks sassily, and Richie crowds into his space again before grabbing him by the hips. He turns them around and hoists Eddie up so that he’s sitting on the counter of the booth before settling between Eddie’s legs. He grabs Eddie’s thighs and runs his hands back towards his ass, stopping right before he gets there, leaving Eddie reeling at the sensation of Richie’s big, warm hands on him.

“A date, definitely, though I am extremely tempted to break my own rule and bury myself between your legs later,” Richie whispers into his ear, and Eddie feels a surge of warmth wash over him starting at his ear, where the heat of Richie’s words are more felt than heard.

Eddie reaches up and grabs Richie by the collar, and he wants to just do it, just bring their fucking lips together and kiss like he’s been wanting to for weeks, but he can’t muster up the courage, and he ends up burying his face in Richie’s chest instead.

“I don’t like to have an audience,” Eddie explains more for himself than for Richie, and Richie laughs, glancing back out at the crowd.

“Fair enough. I forgot you’re a good boy, you wouldn’t want everyone here to watch me take you apart,” Richie whispers again, this time allowing his hands to move back and rest on Eddie’s ass, giving a firm squeeze when Eddie gasps in a breath at the sensation. “Would you, baby doll?”

“N-No, I wouldn’t.”

“Then I won’t, if you insist, though I consider it a pretty significant show of self-restraint,” Richie finally breaks the tension, and Eddie feels like he can breathe again. He winks at Eddie before pulling away, and Eddie wants to stop him from going, and he realizes that maybe  _ he  _ is the one sending mixed signals here. He doesn’t want to seem like a tease but fuck, he’s been so repressed and touch starved his whole life that it’s a miracle he hasn’t come in his pants yet with how much Richie has been manhandling him.

“What do you want to hear?” Richie changes the subject, moving to lean over a laptop that Eddie assumes is connected to the rest of the wiring in the booth.

“U-Uh, nothing in particular,” Eddie shrugs, and Richie rolls his eyes.

“Come on, Eds, there must be something. I don’t ever take requests and I’m literally asking you what you want to hear, don’t squander the opportunity,” Richie presses, and Eddie bites his cheek in thought.

“I guess…I guess something by Purity Ring? I don’t know, they’re my favorite band,” Eddie shrugs.

Richie taps away at a bunch of stuff that Eddie is sure he’d break if he went near it, and the next song that plays is  _ dust hymn _ , and Eddie smiles appreciatively.

“Now, why don’t you go find your friends and have some fun?” Richie suggests, and Eddie panics.

“Um, n-no, I’m good here.”

“Come on, sweetheart. Go have fun with your friends, I’ll catch up with you later, okay? I want you to have a good time. Go grab a couple drinks. I have to man the booth for a little bit but I’ll come find you, okay?”

Eddie wants to protest again, but he also doesn’t want to seem clingy and annoying, so he doesn’t. He climbs clumsily out of the booth after saying bye to Richie and makes his way onto the dance floor, where he stands awkwardly, trying to figure out what to do.

He definitely doesn’t have any friends, so meeting up with his friends clearly isn’t an option. He decides to go to the bar first and get a drink. It takes him a while to move through the crowd of bodies, but once he gets there, the frat brother tending bar is more than willing to hand him some kind of mixed drink as soon as he says that he’s there with Richie. He isn’t sure what’s in it, but it’s alcohol, so he drinks it down quickly and tries not to taste it too much. He takes a breath before turning back towards the crowd, trying to muster up the courage to venture back into the mass of bodies and pretend that he has friends.

He’s just about to press on when the music fades out again and he instinctively looks up at Richie, who is very clearly staring right at him.

“This one goes out to a little cutie who needs to loosen the fuck up and have some god damn fun,” he announces pointedly, and Eddie feels himself blushing furiously as Richie directly calls him out in front of everyone. Well, not that everyone else knows that, but Eddie does.

“There has been a woeful lack of ass shaking, so I’m gonna make it nasty for a while, and I better see some fucking spooky booty getting tossed around,” Richie continues, and the crowd erupts into cheers as a very bass-heavy song starts blaring over the speakers.

Eddie considers trying to slip away unnoticed, but as he glances up at Richie to see if he’s still watching, Richie waves him on in encouragement. So Eddie decides to suck it up and inserts himself into the middle of the gyrating masses, hoping he can find a group of girls that he can pretend are his friends.

He doesn’t have to look far, though, because three girls approach him. They’re dressed as the Powerpuff Girls, and the one dressed as Blossom is clearly hammered already, guessing by the half empty bottle of bourbon that she has in her hand.

“Hey! You’re so super cute!” she yells, and Eddie latches onto it, finally seeing an out.

“You are too, I love your costumes,” Eddie tells them, and all three girls seem happy with the compliment.

“I’m Kelsey, this is Lana and Belle.”

“Eddie.”

“Wanna dance?”

“Sure!”

She hands her bottle of bourbon over to him and encourages him to drink, and despite how unsafe and unsanitary it potentially is, he keeps thinking about Richie, and how Richie wants him to loosen up and have fun.  _ Live a little, Eds.  _ So he takes a deep breath and blocks off his nose, chugging down as much of the amber liquid as he can bear to before feeling like he wants to vomit. The three girls start cheering him on and he manages to keep it down, smiling at them triumphantly. He glances back up at Richie and sees him giving two thumbs up, and Eddie hands the bottle back to Blossom- or Kelsey, or whatever the fuck her name is so that she can tuck it back into her backpack, and he feels an intense head rush wash over him. He probably should have eaten something before coming here, but whatever.

Blossom grabs him by the wrist and Eddie expects her to pull him in behind her, but she does the opposite, and presses herself up against him from behind. It takes him off-guard for a moment and he stiffens up, but she rests her hands on his hips, encouraging him to match her movements where she’s grinding her hips against his ass. So he does, and he’s never really danced with a girl like this before (or a guy, really, except for at a graduation party his senior year in high school), but it’s kind of…exciting.

Buttercup and Bubbles start dancing with each other in the same way, and Eddie finds himself wondering if they’re a couple. He doesn’t have to wonder for long, though, before Buttercup pulls Bubbles into a kiss and looks at her with what can only be described as adoration in her eyes, and he feels a sharp tug at his heart. He glances back up at Richie, but Richie is talking to some girl who has climbed halfway inside of the DJ booth, splaying herself across the counter.

Eddie obviously can’t hear what they’re saying, but he can see the way that she’s beaming at him and giggling, and Richie is smiling back at her, and it looks like the reason she went over there was to hand him a drink. And it’s such a stupid and unreasonable thing to get upset about, but Eddie feels jealousy burn through him like fire and he turns away.

He is definitely getting drunk now, he can feel it in the looseness of his bones as he moves his body, but suddenly it doesn’t quite feel like enough. So he grabs the bottle back from Blossom and takes a few more swigs, and then he decides he’s going to just ignore Richie entirely and pretend that he isn’t hyper focused on getting his attention.

As time passes, he feels himself becoming less and less inhibited, and he’s sure that he’s dancing and presenting himself in a way that contrasts pretty strongly with the way he normally tries to present himself. But that’s what partying is for, he supposes, so he keeps drinking, and keeps dancing, and dances with more people whose names he forgets the moment that they leave their lips. And eventually he stops caring at all what their names are, and can’t even focus long enough to ask anymore, and everyone at the party is his friend. And people he doesn’t know keep handing him drinks, and he keeps taking them.

And in the midst of it all, he really does sort of forget about Richie after all, which is why he startles so badly when he feels arms wind around his waist from behind, and a male voice whisper “boo” into his ear. He yelps and spins around in his arms, and finds himself looking up into Richie’s beautiful blue eyes, but his pupils are so big that Eddie can barely see the blue at all.

“Richie!” he exclaims, which is when he realizes just how drunk he really is, but the realization passes so quickly out of his head that he doesn’t have the capability of thinking about it too much.

“Having fun, baby doll?” Richie asks with an amused smirk on his face, and Eddie nods, standing on his tiptoes to put his arms around Richie’s neck.

“So much fun, everyone here is so nice to me,” he ends up saying, although that isn’t what he really wanted to say, and it sounds so weird and childish as his own words echo around in his head.

“I’m glad to hear it, baby. Do you wanna come to the bathroom with me?”

A confusing question, but Eddie isn’t in a position to ask follow-up questions, so he agrees and allows himself to be guided through the crowd by Richie’s hands on his hips. His feet are so clumsy that he nearly falls a few times, but Richie catches him, and eventually he ends up practically carrying Eddie with his arms hooked tight around his waist.

By the time they make it to the bathroom, Eddie has forgotten where they were going, and asks Richie what they’re doing as Richie ushers him inside and locks the door behind them.

“Do you want a bump?” Richie asks him, so casually that Eddie doesn’t really understand what he’s asking at first, but then Richie is pulling two little tube looking things out of his front pocket, and Eddie wants to panic, but his drunk brain is still trying to comprehend the situation.

“Is that- is that cocaine?”

“This is,” Richie says, holding up one of the vials. “This one is Xanax.”

Drunk brain finally catches up and he gasps, and Richie pauses where he’s tapping white powder out onto the back of his hand.

“What?”

“I- I- nothing, I just- I’ve never done that before. Either one,” Eddie tries to say casually, because he doesn’t want to seem like a prude or a buzzkill, but Richie seems to see something in his body language that Eddie is unaware of, because he gives him a look up and down before speaking again.

“If you’re uncomfortable with this, I can-“

“No!” Eddie yells, way too loud in the small space that they’re sharing. “No, I’m not uncomfortable at all,” he lies, then decides to double down. “I’ll try it, what’s it like?”

“Coke? It’s like…like an adrenaline rush mixed with the feeling you get after you come, but you also kinda want to run laps or something. Xanax is, like, chill, I donno. Feels like sleeping kinda.”

“So…so why are you taking them together?” Eddie asks, watching as Richie snorts one, then the other.

“Xan makes the comedown easier, makes the high less speedy. Makes it feel better,” Richie sort of explains, but Eddie doesn’t really have context for what he’s saying, and his drunk brain stops caring halfway through his explanation anyway.

“Yeah, I wanna try,” Eddie insists, crowding himself into Richie’s space as he pours more of the cocaine out onto his hand.

“Don’t sniff, snort. Like hard, like you’re trying to hock a loogie,” Richie explains, and Eddie surprises himself by not hesitating at all before he’s blocking one of his nostrils with his finger and snorting hard with the other.

It burns, a lot, and Eddie sort of wants to sneeze but holds it in. And he feels it almost immediately, this tingly, white hot feeling in his head that turns into a jolt throughout his body all at once, and he’s lightheaded with the feeling of up up up that makes him want to leap, and he feels like he should be sweaty, if that makes sense, which he doesn’t think it does.

“Whoa,” he states eloquently, and Richie laughs, watching in amusement as Eddie tries to get a handle on himself again. “Okay, gimme the other,” he says, readying himself for another snort, but Richie shakes his head.

“No way, way too easy to OD if you don’t know what you’re doing. Sorry champ.”

Eddie pouts up at him, feeling defiant even though he has no reason to be. “I’m being loose! You told me to be loose, I’m loose, I’m doing drugs ina bathroom, and  _ you’re _ the one stopping me. How the turntables,” Eddie slurs out, absolutely sure that he’s making a coherent argument, but Richie bursts out laughing, so maybe he isn’t as coherent as he thinks.

“Why don’t we see how you like this one first before we start doing all the drugs, okay love?”

“I like it, I like it. God, I sort of love it. Is that bad? I feel so good. Can we do more? I wanna do more,” Eddie asks, and he only realizes he’s been leaning his weight onto Richie this whole time when Richie shifts to put the tubes back into his pocket.

“Slow down, Speed Racer. We’ll see how you’re feeling in an hour, okay? You’re hopped up enough,” Richie laughs, and Eddie becomes very aware of how much he’s bouncing on his toes.

“Will you at least come dance with me now? You haven’t danced with me all night,” he whines, and Richie grabs him around the waist before picking him up and sitting him on the lip of the sink.

“Of course I will, baby doll. But you’re a little messy, so we should probably clean you up first.”

Eddie dumbly looks down at himself in confusion. He doesn’t think he’s messy. A little disheveled, kinda sweaty, but not messy. He looks back up at Richie in confusion, earning him another laugh from the taller man, who just taps the side of his nose.

Eddie frowns and wipes under his nose, finding a small amount of white powder on his fingertips when he pulls them away. “Oh no, I’m a cokewhore,” he whines miserably, and Richie laughs so hard that he snorts.

“I don’t think doing coke once qualifies you as a cokewhore. Think you gotta suck dick for drug money at least one time to be cokewhore status,” he assures, pressing himself between Eddie’s legs before bringing his hand up to cup the side of his cheek, using his thumb to wipe under his nose.

Eddie leans into the touch and whines quietly in the back of his throat, because he’s been touched all night, but being touched like this feels electric in comparison. Richie’s eyes soften and he’s looking at Eddie so fondly that Eddie’s heart is thudding in his ears, and he wishes he weren’t so drunk so that he could think of something nice to say.

Richie’s eyes wander over Eddie’s face, over his pretty features, before settling on his mouth again. He drops his thumb down to rub there gently, pressing the calloused skin on the pad of his thumb to the soft, plush flesh of Eddie’s lips, and Eddie closes his eyes at the feeling, which he’s pretty sure shouldn’t feel as good as it does.

He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but he parts his lips and gently kisses Richie’s thumb, and Richie presses in slightly, rubbing against the wetness on the inside of Eddie’s bottom lip. And Eddie’s body decides on its own that the natural way to respond is to suck Richie’s thumb into his mouth, and when he does, Richie gasps, which makes Eddie open his eyes.

The intensity of Richie’s gaze is only amplified by how wide his pupils are; so wide, in fact, that his irises aren’t visible anymore, just the glossy black depths of his eyes, and Eddie shudders under the pressure and sucks in harder.

And Richie seems to like that, because he mutters ‘fuck’ under his breath before pushing in farther, rubbing against Eddie’s teeth and cheek and tongue, almost roughly exploring the inside of his mouth. And Eddie just lets him, lets his mouth go slack while Richie feels around, and Richie seems to like that too, based on how heavy his breaths get.

He pulls his thumb out and presses two of his fingers in instead, and Eddie moans when he presses them back toward his throat, kind of hoping in the depraved, horny-drunk recesses of his mind that Richie will just commit and finger fuck his throat. He doesn’t, though. He pulls them out and brushes that same hand across Eddie’s cheek and back to his hair, leaving a small trail of spit on his face.

Eddie’s mouth doesn’t react quite fast enough and he ends up drooling down his chin, and Richie groans at the sight of it in a way that makes Eddie’s belly flip around in excitement.

He decides all at once that he is going to kiss Richie. The problem is that he decides it at the same time that he does it, and he ends up launching himself at Richie lips first. To his credit, Richie reacts quickly, grabbing Eddie by the hips to steady him on the sink before he falls, all while having Eddie's face mashed into his own.

Eddie knows he's doing something wrong, definitely. He's only ever kissed two people, one of which was a girl, but even as drunk as he is, he knows this isn't a good kiss. He tries to focus more and calm himself down, but then Richie takes over, pressing his fingers into Eddie's hips as he deepens the kiss, licking into Eddie's mouth.

So Eddie just lets him lead and keeps up the best he can. And god, is he on fucking fire all over. Richie's hands are everywhere, caressing all over him until he eventually pushes Eddie's back against the mirror and starts groping his ass, causing Eddie to let out a moan so loud that he startles himself. So he brings his hands up to Richie's shoulders and somehow finds his fingers in Richie's hair, and he only realizes that he has his black curls wrapped around his fingers once Richie groans into his mouth at the feeling.

The noise sends frenzied excitement zipping through Eddie's whole body and he pulls Richie closer, and Richie drags Eddie's hips up into his own by the grip he still has on his ass, and Eddie can't control the volume of his gasps and moans as Richie grinds their cocks together. Richie is so hard that Eddie can feel it even through the stiff material of Richie's jeans, and he suddenly wants to feel more of it, all of it, and his hands fly down to unbuckle Richie's belt. 

Richie starts breathing faster, practically panting into Eddie's mouth before he seemingly gets frustrated with Eddie's drunken clumsiness and he reaches down to help, nearly getting his fly down before there's a loud bang on the door that startles a yelp out of Eddie. 

"There are plenty of other rooms you can go fuck in, I have to shit!" A male voice yells, and Richie hesitates before stopping, letting out a frustrated sigh before resting his forehead against Eddie's. 

Another loud knock comes echoing through the small room and Richie groans loudly in frustration, re-positioning his cock in his pants before he starts doing his jeans back up. 

"Heard you the first time, charmer. Give me a fucking minute." 

He helps Eddie down from the sink to land on wobbly feet, and Eddie tugs his cock down and tries to tuck it under, hoping people won't notice he's hard, though he's sure they will considering how skin-tight his shorts are. 

"I'm sorry," Richie mutters, and Eddie shrugs. 

"Not your fault. Probably not a good idea, anyway," Eddie admits, and Richie runs a hand roughly through his hair. 

"Probably not." 

Richie grabs Eddie by the wrist and leads them out, and Eddie is blushing furiously, trying to avoid looking at the line of people waiting for the bathroom, many of them casting judgmental eyes in their direction. 

He tugs Eddie into a corner and looks down at him, and Eddie knows he is bright red in the face. 

"Hey, it's fine, don't worry. They've all seen worse," Richie assures, and Eddie shakes his head, feeling weirdly ashamed.

"It’s not- I just- I don’t normally do stuff like this." 

Richie considers him carefully, and Eddie can't quite read his expression. "Nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart. Let's go back," he eventually says, gesturing in the direction of the dancefloor. Eddie nods and Richie's hand slips from his wrist down to his hand, cupping Eddie's in his own as he leads them back into the chaos. 

He leads Eddie over to the bar, and Eddie can't stop thinking about what just happened. Should he offer to go find a room? Should he just pretend it didn't happen? It wasn't really his fault, but...even if they hadn't been interrupted, Eddie isn't sure that he would have gone through with...whatever they were about to do. He doesn’t know what came over him.

He watches as the bartender hands Richie a bottle, which he promptly starts pouring into his mouth, not even wincing at the taste. Eddie watches on in awe, and there's a little voice in the back of his head telling him that he isn't cut out for this and he should get away before he is in too deep.

What he does instead is grab the bottle from Richie's hand once he's done and take a few deep sips, and Richie raises an amused eyebrow at him once he's finished.

Eddie just shrugs and hands the bottle back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He decides not to dwell, mostly because he's much too drunk to be dwelling, and grabs Richie by the wrist to drag him back through the writhing mass of bodies. Totally unplanned, they end up near the Powerpuff Girls again, and Eddie waves enthusiastically at them, receiving friendly waves in return. 

"Those your friends?" Richie's voice breathes into his ear from behind, and Eddie nods. "I saw you dancing with the redhead earlier." 

"You were watching me?" 

"Of course I was. You're the only one here worth looking at." 

Eddie blushes furiously but he turns to press up against Richie affectionately, and he nearly bursts out of his skin when Richie leans down to press a kiss to his cheek.

He's blushing so badly that its embarrassing, and he still feels so energetic on top of the nervous energy swimming through him now, so he turns back around before Richie makes fun of him for being so flustered. 

It seems to be the right move, too, because Richie latches back onto him from behind, resting his hands on Eddie's waist. 

Eddie feels hot all over again and he shifts his hips back hard on instinct, but he loses his balance a little in his enthusiasm and stumbles. Richie tightens his grip and chuckles against Eddie's back, leaning down to whisper in his ear. 

"I got you, baby doll. You doing okay?"

"Yes, I'm just- you- all the touching, its making me dizzy," Eddie admits, feeling really dumb for saying it once the words leave his mouth. 

"Do you want me to stop?" 

"No! No, please, please don't stop," Eddie begs frantically, and Richie breathes out another chuckle.

"Gladly, my love." 

Eddie wants to screech like a tea kettle just to get some of this fucking  _ energy  _ out, but that would be stupid, so he decides to dance instead. And Richie doesn't so much dance with him as he does hold onto him, and press against him, and feel him up to the point where Eddie is afraid he's going to get hard again from the way Richie's hands press into his hips and thighs, and squeeze his ass, and brush between his legs.

And people don’t stop handing him drinks; in fact, now that Richie's there, he has even more alcohol passed around to him. And he knows in some logical part of his brain that he should stop or slow down, but he feels on top of the fucking world. He doesn't think he's ever felt this good. He loses his hat and his wand at some point, he isn't sure when, but he can't be fucked to go looking for them, either.

"I gotta go back to the booth for a minute, baby doll," Richie eventually tells him, and he honestly couldn't say if it's been one hour or ten, and his head is so swimmy that he starts laughing and he doesn't really know why.

"Take me," he manages to get out eventually, and Richie looks skeptical. 

"I dunno babe, I basically had to carry you last time. You're not very good at moving through crowds." 

"So carry me! What's wrong with carrying me? Are you saying I'm fat? Am I too fat?" Eddie panics, and Richie's eyes go wide.

"No! Oh my god, no, you're like, actually perfect. No. I just didn't think you'd want me to," Richie assures him, but Eddie feels weirdly, super emotional about it. "You wanna come? C'mon, I'll carry you," he offers, and Eddie shakes his head no.

"N-No, it's okay, I'll-I'll just stay here." 

"You're not fat, Eddie. You're not," Richie tells him earnestly.

"Promise?" 

"I promise, baby doll," Richie insists, his brow furrowing in concern. "Come here," he says, but he doesn’t wait for Eddie to move before he's pulling him in closer and turning him around. He bends over and tucks his head between Eddie's legs, grabbing onto the front of his thighs with both hands, and before Eddie can ask what's happening, he's lifted into the air on Richie's shoulders. 

He lets out a startled shriek and Richie pats his leg with a chuckle.

"You okay up there?" 

"Y-Yeah!" Eddie assures, wrapping his fingers into Richie's hair for stability. 

"Hold tight."

Eddie sways back and forth on Richie's shoulders as he walks them toward the DJ booth, and the combination of substances in his system make the experience of watching the crowd around him from so high up almost surreal, like he's observing as a third party. He gets distracted people watching from his vantage point and startles again when Richie tells him to climb up into the box, which he manages to do without falling. 

He reaches over the edge to help hoist Richie up, which is where he goes wrong, because he severely misjudges how much force he'll need and sends them both falling to the plywood floor of the booth. 

"Fuck, sorry," Richie apologizes, like it was somehow his fault, and he moves to lift himself off of Eddie underneath him. But Eddie wraps his arms around Richie's neck and holds him there, privately reveling in the weight of the other man on top of him. 

"Fuck me," he says, then giggles once he realizes what he's saying, but he keeps going anyway. "I really want you to fuck me, so bad, Richie. Just fuck me right here, please." 

"Eds, we're in a room with, like, a million other people," Richie laughs, looking down at Eddie in amusement. 

"I don't even care, I don’t care," Eddie insists, reaching a hand down to grab Richie's cock through his jeans. Richie startles but doesn’t move to stop him, so Eddie moves his other hand down as well to unbuckle Richie's pants.

"Baby doll, you're killing me," he breathes once Eddie gets his fly down too, and he closes his eyes and rests his forehead against Eddie's, groaning softly once Eddie reaches a clumsy hand inside of his boxers. 

"It feels so big," Eddie comments, fumbling around for a moment before he finally wraps a hand around Richie's shaft. Richie's hips jerk forward on reaction and he moans again, right into Eddie's ear, sending excitement whizzing down his spine. "I want to feel it inside of me, please, Richie; I'm so horny, I want you so bad, want you to fuck me with your big cock, please," he babbles into Richie's ear, and he can feel the shudder that rips through the other man. 

"Sweetheart-" Richie begins, but Eddie has already started tugging Richie's jeans down. He's focused very intently on this simple task, until his rough tugging sends something tumbling out of Richie's pocket, and Eddie's eyes follow it as it rolls along the unfinished wooden floor. 

"Is that- that's the coke, right? Can I have some more first? And then- and then we can-" 

"I think you've had enough, baby." 

Eddie pouts, throwing his hands to his sides like a toddler. "That's not fair, you said- you told me to have fun! I'm being so- I don’t even  _ do drugs _ , I'm just doing drugs just this once-once time," Eddie slurs, and he knows that what he said probably didn't make much sense, but he can't care. 

"I know, love. I'm so glad that you're having fun. But I think it might be cut off time for you." 

"You're being mean," Eddie whines, seemingly abandoning his plan to have sex, again. Richie sighs and leans back to pull his pants back up and button them, again. 

"I'm not trying to be mean. You're just all over the place. You can't focus already." 

"I'm-I'm focused!"

Richie sighs again, running a hand through his hair, and Eddie keeps arguing. "I'm an adult, I can- I can take care of myself." 

Richie looks down at him like he is trying to make a decision, and Eddie just lies there, trying to look back at him in defiance. 

"Okay, fine," Richie eventually says, and Eddie grins triumphantly as he struggles to get up to a sitting position. He eventually manages, and Richie holds his hand out, and Eddie snorts again, this time wiping his nose after. 

Richie does not take another hit himself and watches with calculating eyes as Eddie sits there, waiting for the head high to hit.

When it does, Eddie smiles, giggling as his body gets another rush of energy and adrenaline, which conflicts pretty drastically with how drunk he is, but it sort of makes both feelings feel better. The back of his throat and his nose feel kind of numb, which he didn't notice the first time, and he only really notices it in passing now. 

He is vaguely aware of Richie standing up and leaning over the booth to talk to someone that Eddie cant see. He closes his eyes for a minute and when he opens them back up, Richie is doing stuff on the sound system, and Eddie closes his eyes again.

He startles when he feels Richie touch his face, blinking his eyes open to see the other man crouched over him, trying to get his attention. 

"Are you listening, baby?"

"Yes," Eddie lies, nodding his head.

Richie says something else, and Eddie forgets to listen, so he just nods again.

"Let's go find your friends, okay?"

"Kay."

Richie climbs down first and has to practically catch Eddie as he tumbles out after him, and he manages to get Eddie onto his back to carry him across the dancefloor. 

The three girls dressed up as the Powerpuff Girls are by the bar, and Richie sits Eddie on top of it once he gets there, and all three girls greet him happily.

"You good, baby?" Richie asks him, and Eddie nods, though he isn't really too sure. 

"Yes!" 

"Okay, I'll be back." 

"Wait! Where- where are you going?" 

"Gonna go help my friend with something. I'll be back," Richie repeats, ruffling Eddie's hair before he heads off. 

Eddie is pissed for a second before the three girls drag him down from the bar and back into the crowd, and Eddie lets himself be dragged more than he really walks there. 

Where the hell did Richie even go? Eddie tries to look for him in the crowd, but he honestly can’t make out individual  _ people,  _ let alone where Richie might have disappeared to. He wants to keep looking, but Blossom pulls him closer and starts dancing with him, so he decides that he can wait, he guesses. Richie said he would be back, right? 

Eddie feels nearly disconnected from reality. Everything exists in sensations more than actual, comprehensible objects, and he starts to get a little anxious. Maybe he’s too drunk. Maybe he should go lie down somewhere, maybe he shouldn’t have done so much coke. 

He feels weak in the knees and wants to stay standing, but it feels so hard, and he feels his muscles trying to give up. And he really, really wants to let them. His body feels so tired while his mind is racing, but it’s so hard to stay focused on anything, and it’s too much, it’s too much. 

He leans back onto Blossom behind him and feels her wrap her arms around him, and he leans into it, allowing his body a moment to rest. Just a moment, he tells himself, but he’s fading in and out, and he wants to get a better grip so that he can wrap his arms around her neck and better support his body weight. He manages to turn around and doesn’t realize that he’s had his eyes closed until he opens them, but he does not see Blossom there when he brings his arms up to hook around their neck. 

It’s a guy. That’s about as much analysis Eddie can manage to do on the situation. There’s a guy holding him. That’s fine. He leans into it and feels him wrap his arms around his waist, and that makes it harder to resist going limp, so he doesn’t. The guy doesn’t seem to mind, though. Eddie looks around to try and spot the Powerpuff Girls, and he sees a flash of red hair, and figures that’s probably Blossom, so they’re still close by. That’s good. 

“You feeling okay?” the guy asks, but his voice sounds detached, like it only exists inside of Eddie’s mind, and he almost forgets what he asked as soon as he finishes speaking. He still manages to nod.

He allows himself to be held, and he honestly can’t tell if the guy is doing much more than holding him up at this point. He floats around in half-consciousness until he feels a cup pressed to his lips, and he blinks his eyes open, turning his head away. 

“No, no, too drunk,” he mumbles, and the guy laughs, which Eddie doesn’t like. 

“It’s just soda, you should drink something.”

So Eddie opens his mouth and allows the liquid to pour past his lips, which makes him feel a little sick, with how sweet it is. He doesn’t really want to drink anything else, but he knows he should, he should probably be drinking water. 

“Thanks,” Eddie manages to mumble once the cup is pulled away, and he can’t keep his eyes open anymore, so he leans his head into the guy’s chest.

Eddie has absolutely no concept of time anymore. He isn’t sure how long they stay there, with Eddie allowing himself to be swayed by the arms circled around him, but it feels like so long. Long enough that Richie should be back by now. 

“Do you know Richie? Where did Richie go?”

“I think he went upstairs. I can bring you there.”

Eddie isn’t sure if he says yes, or agrees verbally, but he feels them moving, his feet shuffling in front of him as the guy guides him away. He hears the music get quieter the further they walk, and eventually they must make it back to the staircase, because he’s being encouraged to climb the stairs, and he honestly would rather do anything else. 

And god, all of a sudden, everything feels  _ weird.  _ Weirder than being too drunk and on coke already felt, and maybe it’s just because he’s tired, but he feels so hot, like he has a fever, and he feels so sweaty. His head feels miles above his body, miles and miles.

“One foot in front of the other,” the guy says, and Eddie somehow manages to lift his body up the steps, though it feels more like a crawl than anything. Once they’re at the top, the guy comes behind him again, guiding him down a hallway. They come to a door, and the guy puts in some sort of passcode, and then they’re in a long corridor full of doors. The heavy door behind them closes and suddenly it’s quiet, so quiet that Eddie’s ears are ringing, in shock from the volume difference between here and the dancefloor. 

“He should be down there at the end of the hall,” Eddie hears the voice say, and he nods in acknowledgement. “Can you make it there on your own?” 

“Yes,” Eddie says, and he starts walking, though he stumbles after a few feet and leans a hand on the wall to steady himself. 

He keeps walking until he gets to one of the only open doors at the end of the hall, and he steps inside, feeling along the wall in the dark room for a light switch. 

“Richie?” he asks, and nobody answers, but maybe Richie came up here to lie down, which doesn’t sound like such a bad idea. “Richie,” he asks again, giving up on finding the light switch to stumble into the room, feeling around until he finds the bed. It’s empty, and he sighs in frustration, having exhausted all of his energy without even finding Richie. 

He can’t resist lying down on the bed; his muscles all give out as soon as he touches the soft material, and it feels so  _ good  _ against his skin, so good that he lets out a small moan at the sensation, and god, it’s euphoric to let himself fall limply against the soft bed sheets that feel so cool against his hot skin. He knows he’s going to pass out, which he doesn’t want to do here, but he’s already closing his eyes. 

He hears the door close, and what sounds like a lock clicking into place, and he tries to lift his head but it feels so heavy. 

“Richie?” he asks hopefully, and somewhere in his brain sirens are trying to fire off, but Eddie isn’t capable of hearing them. 

He opens his eyes to try to see if it’s Richie, but it’s so dark with the door closed, and all he can make out is the strips of light around the door from the hallway and a silhouette in the blackness. He tries to sit up on the bed, but gentle hands urge him back down, and he doesn’t have the energy to push against them. 

“Shh, it’s okay baby, I got you,” a male voice comforts while Eddie’s shoes are being pulled off, and it sounds like it comes from inside of Eddie’s own head. He can’t convince himself that he really heard it. He’s trying to decipher who it might be, but he can’t, it’s too much. 

“Where’s Richie?” Eddie slurs out, and something like panic tries to settle in his stomach when he feels the bed shift as more weight climbs onto it. 

He doesn’t get an answer, though, because the guy’s mouth is against Eddie’s jaw, and he’s kissing so gently down his neck, and Eddie’s whole body is tingling with the sensation. 

“What are you doing?” he mumbles, and it might be incomprehensible, considering that he doesn’t get a response to that either. 

And then there are hands, rubbing all over him, up and down his arms first, then over his thighs, then grabbing at his crotch, and he lets out a choked cry, trying to lift his arms, but they feel so heavy. 

“Stop,” he tries to say, but it comes out like a whisper, and he’s frustrated with how weak he feels deep in his bones. “Stop it,” he says a little louder, but it doesn’t matter, because he feels gentle tugging as the guy moves to undo his shorts.

Finally, a spark of panic manages to start up his response system, and he manages to kick a foot out, and the guy lets out an ‘oof’ when it makes contact with something soft. 

“Get off me,” Eddie manages more firmly this time, and he hears a frustrated sound from above him, which sends another wave of panic through him. 

“Come on, baby, I’ll be gentle, okay? Just relax,” he whispers, and Eddie brings his arms up, pushing against his shoulders. 

“No, Get away from me!” he screeches, throwing a blind punch where he hopes the guy’s face might be. 

He makes contact with something, though it felt like it might have been his chest, and immediately after, both of his arms are painfully pinned above him. 

“Cut the shit. Don’t make this harder on yourself.”

“Fuck off!”

“I was going to go easy on you, you know. I was gonna be nice,” the voice growls, and the wave of panic that passes through Eddie’s body exhausts the last of his energy as he tries to thrash out from underneath him. He puts up the last of the fight in him and goes limp again, his body begging for unconsciousness. 

He’s snapped out of it when the guy speaks again. “If you want me to treat you like the whore you are, I will,” he states, letting go of Eddie’s arms to start frantically unbuttoning his shorts again. Eddie tries to bring his arms down again to stop him but only manages to get them halfway before they fall limply against his own chest.

“I’m not- I’m not a whore,” Eddie sobs out, trying to shift his legs away, but it’s useless.

“You are a fucking whore. And you know what we call stupid fucking freshman whores who come here and get so drunk that they can’t walk? Prancing around in their fucking short shorts with their ‘fuck me’ eyes? Rapemeat,” he hisses, ripping Eddie’s shorts down his legs so aggressively that it  _ hurts  _ his skin, which it shouldn’t, that doesn’t make sense, but his skin feels so sensitive, and he’s still so hot. 

“You know what that means, princess? It means that I and everyone else who watched you walk through that door knows you came here hoping someone would tear you open and fuck your pretty little pussy. You knew what you were doing when you left your dorm dressed like that, baby, don’t lie to me.”

“Where's Richie, I just wanted to find Richie,” Eddie sobs miserably, trying again to push against his chest, only to have his wrists pinned by his ears. 

“Can’t come to the phone right now. I'd be happy to take a message, though.” 

“I’ll- I’ll tell, I’ll tell,” Eddie cries childishly, sniffling pathetically. 

“No, you won’t.” 

“I'll tell the police!”

“Once again, no, you won’t. Do you really think they're going to side with you on this one, baby? You're almost too drunk to stand and you're dressed like a prostitute. I don't think the cops are gonna drop everything they’re doing to help the faggot who cried rape after going to a frat party to get shitfaced dressed like this.”

“I'll tell Richie,” Eddie tries clinging onto anything, anything he can think of to reason himself out of this situation. His brain and his body are both failing him, but he can still somewhat reason, somewhat try to talk himself out of this. But that wasn’t the right thing to say, based on how the guy groans above him, pressing the rough material of his pants into the sensitive skin of Eddie’s cock, now only covered by his fishnet tights. And that hurts too, and Eddie doesn’t know why his skin hurts so bad, it hurts  _ so bad _ .

“Tell Richie. God, please tell Richie. Tell him every little detail about how I'm going to fucking ruin your hole. You'll never be the same, baby. I'm going to fuck you so deep you'll feel me in your guts for days. You should tell Richie all about it, tell him about how you’re gonna come for me while I’m using you like a sex doll."

Eddie wants to fucking throw up, he wants to scream. He wishes he could run away, he wishes he weren’t so fucked up and fucking useless.

“I'll get the whole frat in trouble!” He tries again desperately, and the cruel laugh that comes from above him forces another sob from his lips.

“You think I don't know your type, princess? You'd rather be dead than let the whole world know you were so dumb and weak and defenseless that you got taken advantage of at a party. You'd never want anyone to know how I'm going to fuck you open and make you into my little cockslut, and that you can't do anything to stop me,” He coos, almost gently, almost reverently petting through Eddie’s hair. “Besides, you'll like it, baby. You're gonna be addicted to my cock by the time I'm done. You'll come back for more.”

“Please don’t do this to me, I-I have a boyfriend, please,” Eddie begs quietly, trying to appeal to some sense of morality that this guy might have, which seems to be none, based on the cruel snorting scoff that he gives in response.

“No, you don't, but if there is a guy lucky enough to fuck your cunt whenever he wants to, I think it's only fair for him to share.”

“But I- I haven’t yet, I haven’t. I haven't before, please don’t,” Eddie chokes out through tears, unable to control his sobbing at this point, because he doesn’t know what to do anymore.

“You're a virgin? So you're just a slutty little tease, dressing up like a fucking hooker with your ass hanging out. Your man must be losing it if you're still pretending you're a little prude and wont put out for him. What a shame. That must be so frustrating for him, don’t you think? Watching you act like a little slut without giving him anything? Sounds like torture.”

“No! No, stop it. He understands, he said-”

“No, he doesn't. Matter of fact, I'd bet anything that he's been jerking off every night fantasizing about doing exactly what I'm going to do to you right now,” he hisses out, ripping a hole through Eddie’s tights to get to his cock.

A searing hot wave of panic jolts through him again and he screams so loud that he tastes blood. “Help me! Please, somebody fucking help me!” He tries to grab the guy’s wrists to stop him but he won’t budge.

“Everyone is in the basement, princess. It's just you and me up here. You're lucky I’m the one who got to you first, too. The others wouldn’t be so considerate. Now that I know you're a virgin, I'll be….well, I wont be gentle, but I won't rape you bloody like I wanted to from the moment I saw you shaking your little ass,” he whispers into Eddie’s ear, licking down the side of his neck before kissing all along his belly, which is heaving with sobs that Eddie can’t hold in.

He makes his way down to Eddie’s crotch and buries his face between Eddie’s legs, breathing in deeply.

“God, your sweat smells so good. You smell like you're ready for me to breed you full of my cum. I wish I could get you pregnant so you could never forget what’s happening to you. Wish I could give you the gift of carrying my baby in that little belly.”

Another intense wave of nausea punches through Eddie’s gut. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“It wouldn't be the first time. Do you know how many ungrateful little whores have probably gone down to the clinic to have my babies flushed out of them? But you would keep it, because you're a good boy. You'd keep yourself full of my babies, you'd take care of them and never let them know their daddy raped you pregnant at a party,” he coos affectionately, pressing his fingers gently into the soft skin of Eddie’s belly, rubbing his face against his genitals in a way that has Eddie crying again, his muscles jerking at the intensity of the contact. 

He brings his hand down to grab roughly at Eddie’s soft cock, and Eddie shouts again in near-pain at the sensation, and he still doesn’t understand why he feels so sensitive everywhere. 

“Your cock is just as small as the rest of you, huh? Are you sure you're not hiding a pussy between your legs? I spent all night wondering where you were hiding your cock in those tight little shorts, but it turns out you barely have one,” he laughs, and Eddie is so humiliated that he just sniffles pathetically. He doesn’t have the energy to respond anymore.

“God, you’re so fucking tiny. You’re so weak. You’re not even trying anymore, are you? Didn’t take you very long,” he taunts, and Eddie can feel him breathing against his dick, and it’s making him feel sick again. 

“I think it’s because you wanted this to happen, didn’t you?”

“No, no,” Eddie whines pathetically, and he wants to crawl out of his skin when he feels hands grabbing his thighs to push them further apart. 

“I’ll give you what you want, baby, I’ll make you feel so good. I gave you something special to make you feel good earlier, do you remember? Probably not, you were taking drinks from everyone, weren’t you?”

“You- you drugged me,” Eddie realizes in horror, and he laughs again. 

“As if you weren’t already on fucking drugs. Don’t act so innocent, princess. It’s just something to make you feel better, okay? I didn’t cheat, I didn’t roofie you. You’re already too drunk to move as it is. You did that part for me,” he finishes before he’s ripping the hole in Eddie’s tights wider, and Eddie wails.

“I don’t want this, please stop!” 

“I don’t really care either way,” he chuckles, pulling Eddie closer by the thighs until Eddie can feel his lips brushing against his shaft, and he gags. “It’ll feel so good, baby, you’ll see. Daddy’s gonna make you feel so good,” he coos, and then he takes Eddie’s cock into his mouth, and Eddie is hiccuping in breaths in between sobs, trying to struggle away. 

But he just holds Eddie’s thighs tighter, so Eddie tries to pull his head away by his hair, but it isn’t working, and then all of his muscles give out when he starts sucking, flicking his tongue over the head of Eddie’s cock, which already feels so sensitive that his legs are twitching.

“No, no,” Eddie keeps repeating, but it’s drowned out by the sounds of his crying, and of the moans that his rapist is letting out. It’s too much sensation all at once, he’s too sensitive. It feels like he’s coming the entire time, and his legs won’t stop twitching, and he wants to be sick.

Eddie nearly cries in relief when he pulls away, but then he starts moving, and Eddie can’t tell what he’s doing until he feels two spit-covered fingers pushing into him, and he screams.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, princess,” he coos, nuzzling Eddie’s balls with his nose. “If I don’t finger you first it’s gonna hurt; you don’t want it to hurt, right? I don’t want to hurt you, baby,” he assures before taking Eddie’s cock back into his mouth. 

Eddie wishes he were dead, which isn’t a feeling he thinks he’s ever felt before. He’s experienced hardship, sure; he’s definitely been in so much pain before that he’s had fleeting thoughts about death, but he’s never wished he was dead before right now. 

It’s so much worse with the fingers thrusting inside of him, and he tries to just shut down and block it out, but he can’t. It feels like his brain is broken and his nerves are working overtime, and no matter how much he tries to ignore what’s happening, he can’t. And he knows he’s going to come, he knows it even before those fingers are rubbing up against his prostate. It’s a horribly familiar feeling, because he’s fingered himself enough times to know what it feels like when he’s about to come from it, and he tries to stop it from happening but he can’t, he can’t. 

The groan that Eddie lets out when he does sounds more pained to his own ears than anything, but the man still moans, still rubbing and licking him through it, until Eddie is sobbing loudly from over-stimulation.

Eddie doesn’t have the energy to put up another fight when he’s grabbed by the hips and flipped over onto his stomach, and he’s only passively aware of him ripping Eddie’s tights in the back, too. He hikes Eddie’s hips up until his ass is up in the air while his top half lies limply against the bed, with his arms uselessly resting on either side of his head. He feels two hands roughly spreading him open and another wave of panic passes through him, which turns to nausea when he presses his lips to Eddie’s hole and starts pushing Eddie’s own cum inside of him with his tongue. 

Eddie’s sobbing has reduced to pathetic sniffling and occasional hitching sobs, but he manages to let out a disgusted whine, trying to pull away from the firm hold on his hips. 

The man is heaving in breaths when he pulls away, and he reaches down to gather the cum that he didn’t manage to get inside, roughly pushing it into Eddie with his fingers. 

“See, baby? I told you I’d make you feel good. You’re doing so good, baby, opened up so nice for me. You want it so bad, princess, I can tell,” he praises, and Eddie can hear him undoing his belt and unzipping his pants. 

Eddie doesn’t bother pleading or saying no again; he’s too tired. He just lies there, and it doesn’t shock him as badly as he’s expecting it to when he feels the head of his rapist’s cock pushing into him. The breath rushes out of Eddie’s lungs as he pushes in roughly all at once, and the moan that he lets out once he’s pressing his balls up against Eddie’s ass might be the worst part about it. 

“God, you’re so fucking tight, all for me. Never going to be this tight for anyone else ever again, never gonna be the same. Fuck, you feel how wet your pussy is for me, baby?” he rambles, pulling his hips back before pushing them forward again roughly, and Eddie lets out a squeak, his fists clenching around the fabric of the bed sheets. 

He lies himself across Eddie’s back and reaches down to pull Eddie’s top up, pulling on his nipples, breathing soft groans into his ear that make Eddie’s spine tingle. He slides his hands down to Eddie’s hips as he starts slowly thrusting, muttering curses into his ear. 

It feels so big that Eddie really can feel it in his guts; it seems like he can almost feel it in his fucking throat, though that might just be the vomit threatening to rush out of him at any moment. His fists tighten painfully as the thrusts pick up in pace all at once, so fast and so rough that Eddie can hear the sound of their skin slapping together as it bounces around in the dark room. 

Eddie can feel his own cum dripping down the inside of his thighs and hear the sloppy, wet sound of it being fucked into him, and that’s what makes him start crying again, burying his face into the mattress to stifle his pathetic whimpering. 

“It feels so good, doesn’t it, baby? Doesn’t my cock feel so good in your little pussy?” 

Eddie doesn’t respond, and then his head is being roughly pulled back by the hair, ripping another pained scream from his lungs. 

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes,” Eddie sobs brokenly, trying to pry the fingers out of his hair. The stranger moans above him before shoving his face back down into the mattress by his hair, so hard that Eddie’s nose aches. 

He lets go to hike Eddie’s hips up higher, kicking his legs open wider with his knees before he starts thrusting again, and the feeling of wanting to be dead returns to Eddie in a rush.

Because he lets out a moan, a real one. And his rapist chuckles, holding him around the waist to bring Eddie back on his cock like a ragdoll. 

“There it is; I know it feels good, princess. Is that where you want it? Right there?” he coos, angling his hips more downward, and Eddie lets out another startled moan as unwelcome pleasure rolls through him in waves of overwhelming intensity. 

He tries to stop, but it feels too difficult to keep his mouth closed, and he fucking hates himself as the sound of his own moaning rattles around inside of his head. 

“Fuck, baby, want you to come for me again, want to feel you come on my dick,” he urges, pulling Eddie’s hips back to meet his thrusts even faster, and Eddie is sure that he shouldn’t be able to come again so soon, but he doesn’t understand what the fuck is going on with his body in the first place, and he feels like he’s going to. 

The man reaches a hand down and roughly grabs Eddie’s cock and balls in one hand, squeezing so hard that it’s almost painful, and Eddie lets out a startled cry. He holds his hand there, picking up the speed of his thrusts, and the relief when he finally lets go feels so good that Eddie comes, sobbing into the bed sheets as his whole body shakes with the intensity of it. 

“Good baby, good job princess, such a good little slut for me. I’m gonna fill you up with my cum, gonna give you your first load. Gonna drench your fucking insides with it, you’re gonna be wet with me for days. Gonna touch yourself and think about the first cock you ever had,” he growls, pressing his fingers so hard into Eddie’s hips that his pelvis aches, and Eddie feels himself fading in and out of consciousness again right as he comes, grinding his hips against Eddie’s ass and grunting, muttering under his breath. 

He sighs before pulling out, and Eddie gratefully falls to the mattress, unable to move his body on his own. His brain spins around as he’s flipped onto his back again and he groans, feeling how sore he already is between his legs. 

Eddie just wants him to go away now so he can be pathetic and cry by himself, and he lets out an agonized wail as he feels arms wrap around his waist to pull him into the chest of his rapist. 

He feels the man press kisses all over his face and in his hair, finishing by pressing his lips to Eddie’s, licking into Eddie’s slackened mouth briefly before he pulls away and lets out another satisfied sigh. 

“I think I’m in love with you,” he states, and Eddie tries weakly to struggle away, whimpering high in his throat. 

“Leave me alone,” he manages to whisper out, and his voice is nearly unrecognizable with raspiness. 

“Oh, princess; I have no intention of leaving you alone. I’m going to do this again. You were too good not to,” he coos, reaching a hand down to squeeze Eddie’s genitals. Eddie cries out again, punching weakly against his chest as he moves his hand back to push two fingers inside of Eddie’s tired, sore body. 

He lets out a shuddering breath and hooks his fingers up, and Eddie is sobbing again, trying to pull himself away with any ounce of strength that might be left in his shaking muscles. He starts begging when those fingers push against his prostate again, and it just hurts this time, just hurts so deep inside of him that he can’t bear it anymore, and he’s pretty sure he’s going to break.

“Please, please, no more, please,” he begs weakly, and he feels the other man chuckle where he’s still pressed against his chest before he pulls his fingers out, and Eddie nearly cries in relief. “Thank you, thank you,” he finds himself babbling, and the man groans softly before grabbing Eddie’s face with his cum-covered fingers, pressing another wet kiss to his mouth before wiping the rest of his cum onto Eddie’s cheek. 

“I’ll see you around, baby,” he assures gently, pressing another kiss to Eddie’s hair before he stands from the bed, and Eddie barely hears him put himself back together before he walks out of the door. Eddie blinks as light spills into the room, and he wants to lift his head, wants to try and see who it was like he knows he should, but his body won’t cooperate in time, and the doorway is empty by the time he lifts his head, displaying a hallway full of closed doors. 

His head drops back to the bed and he tries to will himself to get up, because he needs to go home. He can’t pass out here, he can’t give up yet. He’s got to get home, he can’t be here anymore. 

But he’s just so fucking tired, and his body won’t move the way he wants it to, and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to just shut his eyes for a minute. Just for a minute, then he’ll gather up his strength and get home.


	2. You hardly know me, but you still owe me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, baby, you're the best  
> We'll figure out the rest  
> And maybe it's a test  
> I think we'd better quit while we're ahead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy hey, sorry this was a little later than anticipated. I had a terrible headache last night so it took a little longer than I wanted it to, but it's here! As always, please heed the warnings, friends! Also I forgot to add the age difference as a tag/ potential trigger on the first chap, so my bad
> 
> /////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////  
> TW: Rape aftermath, vomit, flashbacks, drug use, potentially upsetting/harmful language, age difference (not underage either way but Eddie is 10 days away from being 18 so that might make some people uncomfortable), insecurities galore, codependency  
> ///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
> 
> Nothing graphic in this chapter. It's more or less a happy chappy for our boy, or as happy as it can be, given the circumstances.
> 
> [ 'Eager to be Held' playlist for your disaster angst reading needs](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2u8K6ocYs6En71YbXDFMZ9?si=n-W6SVGmQk2m4PVTVUI8lg)
> 
> [ Come bother me on Tumblr ](https://bimmyshrug.tumblr.com/)

Eddie wakes up to something hitting him in the leg and he startles, shooting up in a bed that is very much not his bed. He blinks the bleariness out of his eyes and sees his shoe sitting on the bed next to him, and he glances up to see a small group of guys standing in the room with amused smirks on their faces. Eddie yelps and reaches down to cover himself, which earns a round of chuckling from the frat brothers.

“Get up, it’s time to go home,” the one in front tells him, tossing Eddie’s other shoe at him. He starts panicking, heaving in breaths as he has flashes of memory from the night before, and his eyes are already wet enough to start leaking down his cheeks.

“Ugh, come on, don’t start with that shit. Go home and cry about it there,” the guy who threw his shoe says, but Eddie still feels frozen to the spot.

“Guess you learned your lesson the hard way, huh?” Another one comments, and they’re chuckling again, and Eddie wants to get the fuck out of here as soon as possible.

He starts frantically looking around for his shorts, which another brother picks up by the door and tosses at him, and Eddie stares back at them staring at _him_ the whole time he’s dragging them back up his legs, wincing at the foreign feeling in his backside. He pulls his boots on and starts looking for his phone, which he finds under the bed, and his stomach sinks at the multiple calls and texts that he has from Stan and Bill and Mike.

“Hurry up, for fuck’s sake,” the first guy says, and Eddie snaps into action, backing out of the doorway as they watch him, laughing quietly and muttering under their breath.

“Might wanna clean up a little before you leave,” the second one calls when Eddie is halfway down the hall, and all his hairs on the back of his neck stand up. There are other frat brothers milling about the dorm, some looking at him in confusion, others in amusement as he rushes to the end of the hallway. He pushes the door open and rushes into the stairwell, wanting so desperately to just leave, but the “clean up before you leave” comment is glued inside of his head, so he dashes downstairs to the bathroom.

There are brothers down there, too, cleaning up from the night before. The whole place looks like a hurricane hit, and Eddie tries to slip by unnoticed, but a loud whistle startles him and he turns to see all of the brothers there watching him curiously.

“What are you doing here?” one of them asks, looking him up and down.

“Just-just- bathroom,” Eddie manages to croak out, and the brother lifts an eyebrow, looking back at the other guys who are all sharing the same mixture of curious and amused expressions as the guys upstairs.

“Go ahead,” he shrugs, and when Eddie turns to open the door, there is chuckling, and one guy mutters ‘Jesus Christ’ under his breath.

He jumps into the bathroom as quickly as he can and locks the door behind him, and he’s immediately faced with looking at his reflection in the mirror, and he can’t stop the tears that come streaming down his face.

He looks like a disaster in the way one might expect after a party, of course; his hair is a mess and his makeup is everywhere and he looks exhausted, but the dried cum smeared across his cheek mixed with what he assumes is dried vomit punches a hole of shame through him so hard that he has to lean forward and hold onto the sink for balance. He takes his shirt off and stands up on his tiptoes to look at his backside, and lets out another sob when he does, seeing dried cum all over his legs, covering his inner thighs and his ass.

He feels hot vomit getting ready to burst out of him and throws himself at the toilet, retching so violently that his abs hurt. He sucks in a breath before another rush of vomit comes, and he collapses onto the floor, unable to hold himself up any longer. He looks down and sees dried piss stains covering the tile and vomits a third time, sobbing through it.

He waits to see if he’ll vomit again but he doesn’t feel anything else threatening to come up, and he flushes before standing back up on wobbly legs. He takes a breath to steel himself before deciding that he has to just deal with this the best he can for now, and then he can go home and go back to sleep and stop thinking about it.

He steps out of his shoes and takes his shorts off to place them on the sink, looking away from his reflection when his eyes land on the rips in his tights and the bruises around his hips. He works on peeling the fishnets down his legs, feeling the material sticking to his skin, and he blinks away more tears before they start. He tosses the tights into the garbage can and grabs a handful of paper towels, wetting them in the sink before he starts wiping himself down. He moves as quickly as he can, but his muscles feel like Jell-O, and he’s shaking so badly that he feels like he’s shivering.

His bladder suddenly feels incredibly full, but he doesn’t have confidence that he’ll be able to pee without his legs giving out and landing him in the toilet, so he sits down. The relief he feels is brief before he feels something warm dripping out of his asshole, and he buries his face in his hands, letting out another sob as more and more dribbles out the longer he sits there.

He takes a breath before pushing out as much as he can, and the wet _splat_ sounds that it makes when it lands in the toilet have him feeling sick all over again. He takes a slow, shuddering breath to calm himself before wiping up and standing, refusing to look in the toilet before he flushes it down.

He pulls his shorts and shoes back on before washing his face, and a loud knock at the door has him jumping with a yelp as he’s wiping the rest of his makeup off with a paper towel.

“Gotta get going, dude,” a male voice calls through the door, and Eddie pulls his shirt on before he rushes out of the bathroom as quickly as he can, keeping his eyes down as he runs back up the stairs and rushes out of the building.

It’s colder than he thought it would be and he’s already shivering, practically running in the direction of the freshman dorms. He remembers his missed calls and texts and pulls his phone out, reading through the messages in his group chat with the trio.

2:32am Stan- _When are you going to be back?_

3:06am Bill- _Having fun? Everything good?_

4:11am Mike- _Hey man, not trying to be annoying or anything, but it’s getting kind of late. You all good?_

5:53am Stan- _Eddie, are you okay? Where are you? Why won’t you answer my calls?_

Each of them individually sent him messages of the same variety, and he has one missed call from Mike and Bill and four from Stan, the most recent of which was 30 minutes ago, at 7. He considers just waiting to deal with the impending shit show until he gets back to his dorm, but he feels so horrible about making them worry about him, so he hits the “return call” button on his most recent missed call from Stan.

The phone rings twice before Stan answers, sounding frantic when he nearly cries “Eddie?” into the phone.

“Hey, Stan, I’m sorry,” he says, but his throat is so sore that his voice is thrashed and he’s sure it doesn’t do much to calm Stan down.

“Where are you? Are you okay?” he asks, and Eddie can hear Mike and Bill talking in the background. “Do you need me to come get you?”

“No, no. I’m fine. I slept at my friend’s dorm, I’m coming back now.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind coming to pick you up,” Stan presses, and Eddie really, _really_ wants to say yes, but then Stan will know he’s been at the frat house this whole time, and he doesn’t want to explain that.

“I’m sure, it’s all good. I’ll see you guys soon,” he tries to say cheerfully, but Stan doesn’t seem to buy it.

“I’ll wait by the front door to let you in.”

Eddie hangs up the phone and opens his only other text message, which is from Richie at 5:09.

_R: Make it home okay?_

For some reason it makes Eddie angry, so fucking angry, and he’s typing a response before he thinks about why he’s so angry.

_E: Where the fuck did you go?_

It only takes a few moments before he can see Richie typing a response, and when he sees it, his blood just boils hotter.

_R: Huh?_

_E: At the party, where the fuck were you._

_R: I had to dip, I tried looking for you again but I couldn’t find you or your friends so I assumed you went home. Are you pissed at me or something?_

_E: Why didnt you take me with you when you left the first time_

_R: You seemed like you were having fun._

_E: I wasn't._

_I need to go to bed._

_R: Awe baby dont say that, I'm sure you had a good time._

_Sweet dreams, Eds. Call me when you wake up, I'll bring you coffee_

_And a treat for being such a good sport_

He shoves his phone back into his pocket and starts power walking across campus, shivering in the crisp early morning breeze.

When he makes it back to his building, he sees Stan waiting outside for him, wrapping his beige cardigan around himself in the cold. Eddie picks up the pace and jogs the rest of the distance, mustering up a cheerful smile once he gets there.

“Hey, you didn’t have to wait outside, I could have just texted you when I got here,” he says as casually as he can, and Stan looks him up and down with calculating eyes before swiping his ID badge to usher Eddie into the building.

“You must be freezing,” he comments gently, and Eddie shrugs despite the visible goosebumps all over his skin.

“I’m fine, no biggie.”

Stan stays quiet as they walk back to Eddie’s room at the end of the hall, and Eddie feels like he’s walking into an intervention with the way that Mike and Bill are hunched over on Mike’s bed with their heads in their hands, like they’re waiting for bad news in a hospital waiting room.

“Hey guys,” he offers gently, and both men snap their heads up to look at him.

“Thank fucking god. We were so worried,” Mike sighs in relief, standing up from his bed to pull Eddie into a hug. Eddie stiffens in his arms, and Mike must notice because he lets go immediately, looking down at Eddie with confusion in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I just stayed at a friend’s dorm. I must have been too drunk to remember to text you guys, that was fucked up of me. I’m so sorry,” he lies, and he really can’t handle looking at Bill’s fucking solemn expression right now.

“It’s okay, Eddie. We just wanted to know you were okay,” he says softly, and Eddie forces on another smile.

“Well, I am! All good. I’ll be more careful and more clear about my plans in the future, promise. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“You stayed at a friend’s dorm?” Stan asks, and Eddie can’t read his expression as he walks over to Mike’s desk to pour hot water from the kettle into a mug that already has a teabag in it.

“Yes.”

“Was it that guy? The one you were going to meet?” Stan asks _too_ carefully as he pours honey into the mug and stirs, and Eddie’s hackles go up defensively.

“No, it wasn’t.”

“If it was, it’s no big deal, I’m just wondering-”

“It wasn’t,” Eddie insists, because he isn’t fucking lying. Well, he is, but he isn’t lying about this. “It was my friend Kelsey,” he says, unsure of where the name came from, but it slips easily enough from his lips.

“Okay. Well, I’m glad you guys got home safe,” Stan concedes, smiling gently as he offers the mug of tea to Eddie.

Eddie wants to refuse it and say no, because something about this feels like he’s being grilled by his parents after missing curfew, but he’s so cold down to his bones that he reaches out and grabs it with an appreciative smile.

The warmth and the honey soothe his sore throat and he shivers at the feeling of comfort, moving to sit on his desktop instead of his bed, since he needs a shower more than he has probably ever needed a shower before in his life.

“So you had a good time?” Bill asks, and Eddie nods, taking a deep sip to buy himself some time to respond.

“Yeah! It was so much fun. I danced my ass off, got too drunk, it was the real college experience.”

“Did you meet up with that Tinder guy?” Mike asks, and it feels so much less like a fucking interrogation than when Stan was asking.

“Yeah, like, as soon as I got there. We basically hung out all night,” Eddie offers, even though it’s not entirely true.

“So he was cool? Do you think you’ll hang out again?”

“I mean, I hope so. He’s…” Eddie pauses, grasping onto flashes of memories from last night with Richie, smiling into his tea. “He’s really great. I like him a lot. He said he’ll come by later, so I guess I’ll see him again today.”

“That’s great, Eddie. I’m glad you had so much fun,” Stan smiles at him, but something about it still feels off, and he just really wants to go take a shower and go to sleep. He sets his half-drank mug of tea on his desk and hops down, reaching for his shower bag and towel.

“I gotta go take a shower. Sorry again for worrying you guys, I’ll be more mindful in the future. It’s weird having friends to worry about me,” Eddie jokes, but his heart clenches at the truth of it. “Just not used to it.”

“It’s okay, for real. Don’t worry about it. Enjoy your shower,” Mike smiles, and Eddie nods before slipping on his shower shoes and heading down the hallway.

While he’s in the shower, he feels his brain trying to remember bits and pieces of the night, and the ones of Richie are very much appreciated. A little embarrassing, when he remembers drunkenly throwing himself at the man, but they _kissed,_ and almost did more than that, and Eddie feels giddy inside thinking about it. But then things he would rather not remember start flashing around in his brain, like pitch darkness, and a voice he can’t remember the sound of, and rough hands, and _It feels so good, doesn’t it? Is that where you want it? Right there?_

He doesn’t notice that he’s wheezing until it gets louder than the sound of the shower spray, and he presses his fingers into his scalp to ground himself. He pushes the thoughts out of his head and stands there, his mind weirdly blank as he stands under the shower spray for longer than he should.

Which is probably for the best, because in his room, the three boyfriends are having a hushed argument about him. Well, more that Stan is frantic and his two infuriatingly calm boyfriends are trying to calm him down.

“That was a cum stain on the back of his shirt. Do _not_ try to tell me it wasn’t, Mike,” he insists, pausing to point a finger at the man while he paces back and forth in the small dorm room.

Mike puts his hands up in a placating gesture, and it only makes Stan more defensive, because he knows Mike is going to tell him to calm down.

“I’m not trying to tell you it wasn’t, dove. I agree that it probably _was,_ but I don’t think it’s our place to make a big deal about it. He’s a full grown man,” Mike says, which is essentially just ‘calm down’ with extra words.

“A full grown man who _just_ came out of the closet. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s clinging onto affection because he’s excited about this guy. I get it, I do. But he’s going to get himself hurt.”

“Well, he said that this guy is really nice,” Bill offers innocently, unaware of the death glare it will earn him from his boyfriend.

“Yeah, I’m sure he thinks so. But Eddie said himself that he got so drunk he couldn’t even send a fucking text message, and I’d bet that fucking cum stain on his shirt is from brooding art student Tinder guy, who invited him to a fucking frat party to get him drunk and vulnerable. Nice guys don’t fuck you when you’re that drunk,” Stan argues, and Bill opens and closes his mouth a few times, frantically glancing at Mike to save him.

“Stan, baby, I know you’re worried about him, okay? But you’re making a lot of assumptions. If you’re that worried, just try talking to him about it, okay? Don’t do that thing where you try to piece shit together in your head and then present it as fact. Don’t give me that look, dove.”

“You’re too much of a worrier, babe. I’m not saying there isn’t anything to be worried about, but you’re worrying in a way that isn’t really helpful to Eddie. He clearly likes this guy a lot, so coming at him and being like ‘this guy is a piece of shit and you’re in over your head’ isn’t going to go well,” Bill offers after Mike nods to him in encouragement.

Stan sighs, rubbing at his temples. “Okay. Fine. I’ll talk to him about it. What I really _want_ to do is track this guy down and fucking chew him out, but I’m sensing that’s not a decision you would support, so fine,” Stan concedes, crossing his arms over his chest. “I just want to meet this guy, if he’s so fucking great. Eddie has been talking to him for weeks, and yet we’ve never met him. What the fuck is that about? Another red flag.”

“Well, baby, maybe he’s nervous because you’re, you know…” Mike starts, and trails off when Stan narrows his eyes at him. “You’re extremely judgmental, baby. You are. And maybe Eddie is just nervous, since this guy seems like he’s kind of the opposite of you in every way, and Eddie cares about your opinion.”

“Well, Eddie said he’s coming over later, right? So maybe we can meet him then,” Bill shrugs, and Mike throws him a warning glance as Stan claps his hands together.

“Oh my god, yes! Baby, you’re a genius. We’ll just show up later when he’s here so I can meet him, that’s perfect.”

Bill is smiling proudly at him until he notices Mike’s look, and then his smile falters, looking between his two boyfriends, which is never where he wants to be when they’re disagreeing on something.

“Or we could just wait until Eddie decides he wants us to meet him,” Mike offers gently, and Stan rolls his eyes.

“He isn’t going to. I’m not saying I’m gonna give him the third degree, okay? I just want to meet the guy, that’s all. And we’ll do it today, when he comes by to see Eddie,” Stan nods resolutely at Bill, who gives him an encouraging thumbs up before looking apologetically in Mike’s direction.

Mike is just about to make a counter argument when Eddie walks back into the room, dressed in sleep shorts and a t shirt, toweling off his hair. He must sense the tension because he pauses at the door, glancing around at the three other men.

“Enjoy your shower?” Stan asks cheerfully, and Eddie nods, still eyeing the other two suspiciously as he kicks off his shower shoes and shuffles to his dresser to pull on a pair of socks.

“Yeah, it felt nice to brush my teeth and get all the party grime off of me. I think I sweated out half my body weight.”

“Make sure you rehydrate, you don’t want to get hung over,” Bill offers lightly before Stan has the chance to, and Eddie sighs, flopping down onto his bed.

“I will. Right now, I just really need to sleep. I’m so tired,” Eddie says, burying his face into his pillow as he tucks himself under his covers.

Stan is about to argue that he needs to drink something _before_ sleeping, Mike can see it in his eyes and the way he’s already raising a hand up to speak, so he cuts him off, giving him a firm shake of the head.

“Let us know if you need anything, okay? We’ve gotta head out for class soon, so you’ll have peace and quiet to catch up on some sleep,” he says, and Stan swallows down what he was going to say and rolls his eyes at the ceiling.

Eddie turns his head over to Mike and smiles at him in that cute, sleepy way he does that makes Mike want to bake him cupcakes and read to him. “Thanks, Mikey. I will.”

“Are you gonna go to class today, or are you taking the L?”

“No, I’m gonna go.”

“Do you want me to come wake you up for lunch first?”

“Nah, I’m just gonna set an alarm for noon. Richie said he’ll bring me something to eat, so I’ll be okay,” Eddie says, yawning at the end, tucking his blankets up under his chin before closing his eyes.

Stan raises an eyebrow at Mike triumphantly, and Mike rolls his eyes, standing from his bed. “Sleep well, we’ll see you later,” he says, and Stan and Bill say their goodbyes as well before turning the light off and leaving. The trio heads down the hallway and Stan walks backwards in front of his boyfriends, looking smug.

“And I’ll be here at 1 to meet Tinder boy, whether the two of you are here or not,” he says, and Mike sighs.

“Yeah? And why would you be coming to my room if I’m not there?”

“To see Eddie, obviously. Check up on him, make sure he’s okay. Bring him some water and some fruit instead of a Big Mac and a beer or whatever the fuck Mr. Party Animal is gonna bring him,” Stan grumbles, turning around to open the door and lead them out of the building.

"You're already being judgmental, Stan," Mike chides, and Stan throws his arms up with a scoff.

"I mean, can you blame me? Look, I’m gonna go into this with an open mind, okay? But he obviously didn't look out for Eddie last night if he let him get that drunk, whether he had sex with him in that condition or not. And neither did that Kelsey girl, or whoever his other friends were that he was with. They're all on my shit list until further notice."

“Believing that he’s guilty until proven innocent isn’t exactly going into this with an open mind, babe,” Bill offers gently, and he can see Stan sigh in the movement of his shoulders before he stops and waits for his boyfriends to catch up on either side of him.

“Okay, fine. You’re right. Maybe he’ll be...you know,” Stan gestures with his hand, struggling to find the proper word to use. “Passable.”

“‘Passable,’ Stan? Really? You couldn’t have just said, you know, ‘nice’? Or ‘cool’” Mike tries to scold, but he’s laughing.

“Well, whatever! Open mind! If I’m not allowed to assume that he sucks then I’m definitely not going to assume that he doesn’t suck, either.”

Mike just laughs again and throws an amused look at Bill over the top of Stan’s head, which Bill returns with his own.

“Our kids are never going to be able to date anyone, are they?” Bill asks, reaching to hold Stan’s hand in his own.

“They’ll be able to date whoever meets my standards,” Stan replies, wrapping his fingers in Bill’s.

“Does anyone meet your standards?” Mike jokes, and Stan turns to pout at him.

“I’m still with the two of you, aren’t I?”

“Thank god,” Mike smiles, kissing Stan on the forehead.

“I think it’s cute when you get all protective. You’re such a dad already,” Bill teases, bumping Stan’s shoulder with his own.

“Little Papa Bear,” Mike coos, wrapping an arm around Stan’s shoulders to briefly nuzzle his hair.

“Damn fucking right, don’t fuck with my cubs.”

Mike and Bill share a laugh as they all continue walking to class, knowing full well that the two of them are going to go with Stan later when he goes to meet (confront) Richie. If they don’t, the poor guy might get his fucking eyes scratched out.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

When Eddie’s alarm goes off at 11:55, he immediately considers turning it off and just going back to sleep. He sits there in his bed, listening to Poppy’s voice play through the speakers on his phone, and honestly, he should probably change his alarm soon so that he doesn’t end up hating this song. Listening to _I'll make up my face in a minute, I'll reform this state in a minute, cash my check, got paid, yeah, I did it_ when he wakes up every morning has been sort of motivating for the past two months, but right now he wants to just huck his fucking phone out the window.

He sighs and sits up in bed, wincing at the slight pain in his head before grabbing his phone to silence his alarm. Once it’s quiet in the room again, he feels the small hairs all over his body stand up, and he isn’t sure why, but it’s making him so uncomfortable. The weight of realization slams into him again when he stretches his back and feels how sore his muscles are, and an uncomfortable, unfamiliar _awareness_ in his ass. It doesn’t hurt, but he sort of wishes that it did, because this weird feeling that he can’t quite describe is itching at part of his brain that he would rather not scratch right now. Or ever, probably.

He doesn’t want to think about it, so he doesn’t. Because it’s a new day, sort of, and he can just pretend it didn’t happen and move on. And little 13 year old Eddie who had just realized he was gay would probably be absolutely ruined knowing that his first time was under the circumstances that it was. But grown up, adult Eddie knows that virginity is a stupid construct, and that it doesn’t really matter, and that it’s really, really not that big of a deal. It’s not. So he isn’t going to make it into one. Besides, he doesn’t really have a right to, because if he hadn’t gotten so drunk, if he hadn’t lied about having friends with him, if he hadn’t taken drinks from strangers and done drugs he shouldn’t have done, then- then-

Stop. Nope.

He looks down at his phone and feels guilt bubble up in his stomach when he remembers how needlessly rude he was to Richie this morning. Because Richie didn’t do anything wrong, and it wasn’t fair for Eddie to get mad at him. He was just upset, and took it out on him, and that was a really shitty thing to do.

So he dials Richie’s number and puts his phone on speaker, lying back down onto his pillows as he waits for him to pick up.

“Good morning, babydoll. Are you done being mad at me for...whatever you were mad about earlier?” Richie’s voice asks cheerfully, and the guilt bubble just gets bigger.

“I wasn't...I wasn't mad at you. I'm sorry,” Eddie admits, his voice still rough from sleep and screaming, screaming for help, screaming because nobody came to help him, because _It’s just you and me up here_ -

“Misdirected drunken anger is unbecoming of you, Edward,” Richie chides in a mock-proper voice, but Eddie doesn’t have it in him to play along with the teasing.

“I know. I'm sorry.”

“Are you alright? Is this still about the party? Look, Eds. I couldn't find you when I came back and I had to go eventually, I had class at 8 this morning. You were dancing with your friends when I saw you last; you told me you were going home with them. I figured you had enough and dipped before I got back,” Richie explains gently, and for some fucking reason, Eddie is tearing up.

“But why didn't you take me with you when you left? Why did you leave me there?” he asks softly, and there’s a pause before Richie responds, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

“Why do you keep saying it like that?”

“I didn’t- sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just- you- I-”

“Did something happen?” Richie asks gently, and Eddie’s entire brain is firing off in panic. 

“No! No, nothing happened, I just-”

“Eddie, baby, you can tell me if something is wrong. Did someone do something to you?” Richie presses, and Eddie is dizzy. Should he tell Richie what happened? Should he- should he-

_God, please tell Richie._

He swallows down his panic and takes a breath before responding, but he doesn’t think about what to say before he does.

“I don't know- I don't know. I think so.”

“What happened…?”

_You won't want anyone to know how weak you are._

“He- someone offered me coke, but I don’t think it was coke. I think it was molly,” Eddie lies, because it’s a sort-of truth. Can’t really call it a half-truth or a partial truth, that seems too generous.

Richie pauses before speaking, and when he does, Eddie can’t read his tone. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I'm okay, it was just- you know- I wasn't expecting it, so it was kind of scary. But I’m okay, I’m all good. It just threw me off, and I still felt weird this morning, so I don’t know if it was out of my system all the way or something.”

“Molly is a pretty crazy high, I’m glad you’re alright.”

“I just...hadn't ever done it before, so I didn't know what to expect, and...and I was scared,” Eddie explains slowly, and he’s getting dangerously close to thinking about it again.

“Yeah, I'll bet. But I'm proud of you for rolling with the punches, you're a little toughie,” Richie praises, and Eddie is trying to take comfort in that. 

“Yeah, you know...if anything it was, like, a free roll, right?” he tries to joke, but it sounds so flat in his ears. Richie still chuckles.

“Guess you had quite a few firsts last night, then.”

Eddie’s ear starts ringing and he feels a sweeping chill over the top layer of his skin, and he has to force words out of his throat, which feels like it’s shrinking to a pinhole.

“W-What...what do you mean?”

Richie chuckles again. “First big boy party, first time doing coke, first time doing molly, first time getting as drunk as you were, I'm guessing. Eventful night for you, huh?” he explains, but it doesn’t really help, and Eddie feels cold and sweaty.

“I...yeah. Yeah it was.”

“Is it still okay if I come see you?” Richie asks, and Eddie clings to it, hard.

“Yes! Yeah, of course it is.”

“Do you have any food allergies?” Richie asks, and it’s such a thoughtful thing to ask that Eddie’s heart lifts.

“Not any real ones,” he answers before thinking, and Richie makes a confused sound.

“What the fuck does that mean?” he asks in a laugh, and Eddie sighs, very much not in the mood to explain right now.

“A very long story, and one I’ll probably tell you when I’m not hungover,” Eddie dismisses, though he doesn’t feel all that hungover. At least not the way people normally describe it. He’s sort of just...exhausted. Tired. Empty.

“You are a just a well of mysteries, aren’t you Edward Francis Kaspbrak?"

“None of them are interesting, so don’t bother poking around,” Eddie grumbles, and Richie laughs like it’s a joke.

“I’m gonna head over in a minute, text me where your dorm is.”

“Kay,” Eddie agrees, then hangs up the phone.

He sends Richie his campus address and then sits there on his bed for another few minutes, just staring at the wall. Not really thinking about anything, thankfully.

He figures he should probably get dressed and make himself presentable before Richie gets there, so he drags his eyes away from a crack in the wall and lifts himself out of bed, hating the way that his legs wobble with the effort.

He goes to wash his face and brush his teeth first, and attempts to brush his hair down while he’s there, though it’s getting so long at this point that it’s starting to curl up. He can practically hear his mother’s voice in his head, screeching about how badly he needs a haircut, and _What if you get lice, Eddie? I’ll have to shave your head!_

He tames it the best he can before giving up and going back to his room, pulling his overalls and a hoodie out of his closet. He changes his socks and hesitates before changing his underwear, too, doing everything he can to avoid looking down, because he doesn’t want to see the bruises around his hips and how much worse they probably are now that some time has passed.

He pulls the hoodie on and tugs his overalls up over it, and he’s just finished cuffing the denim at his ankles when there’s a rhythmic knock on the door.

He glances in the mirror briefly to make sure that he looks okay before swinging the door open, and despite how empty and just sort of _shitty_ he’s felt all morning, he lights up as soon as he sees Richie standing in the hallway.

He looks Eddie up and down and sighs, and Eddie crosses an arm over his belly self-consciously.

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” Richie accuses, and Eddie tilts his head in confusion, and Richie groans. “Ugh, stop! You’re making it worse!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Eddie laughs, and Richie gestures vaguely at him.

“Just...all of it. You as a person. You’re so fucking cute that I legitimately feel like it’s taking minutes off of my life to contain the desire to squeeze the fucking life out of you every time I look at you. The overalls are nearly too much, that’s my limit. I can’t take anymore than that,” he says dramatically, and Eddie tries to roll his eyes, but he’s smiling so wide that his cheeks already hurt.

“You know, if you want a hug, you could just ask,” he tries to say with sass, but he’s giggling by the end of it, and Richie dramatically clutches at his heart.

“I’m dying, Eddie. You’re being cruel, at this point,” he sighs, and Eddie rolls his eyes before tugging Richie inside by the sleeve of his crew neck so that he can close the door.

“You’re such a fucking dork, you know that?” he teases, and Richie drops his backpack onto Eddie’s desk before leaning against it, his eyes still glued to Eddie.

“You think I’m joking, but I’m serious. You know that thing that little kids get where they squeeze cute things too hard? That’s how I feel when I look at you; I just want to snap your little fucking spine in half, but in, like, a loving way.”

“Am I just supposed to pretend that isn’t one of the most serial killer-y things anyone has ever said to me?"

“I mean, to be fair, if you were going to be serial killed, getting hugged to death sounds preferable to, like, having your eyelids peeled off and being forced to drink bleach or something,” Richie argues, and Eddie snorts out a laugh.

“I see you’ve really been brushing up on your game for me, huh? How did you know that nothing gets my dick hard like severed eyelids and chlorine poisoning?”

“So...are you saying that I squandered my opportunity to take you up on that hug offer, or…?”

“Yes, but I’ll take pity on you this time and make an exception,” Eddie replies, and he barely has time to prepare before Richie lifts him up by the thighs, squeezing him around the middle while his feet dangle in the air.

After he recovers from the initial shock, he hugs back, wrapping his arms around Richie’s neck, trying very hard to resist the urge to lean forward and sniff his hair. Because that would be weird, right?

“What the fuck do you use for shampoo? Jesus’s tears? Fuck,” Richie asks, pressing his nose to the space behind Eddie’s ear to take a deep whiff, and Eddie bursts out laughing as Richie puts him back down on the ground.

“It’s a honey-toffee shampoo bar from Lush, actually, though it might as fucking well be Jesus’s tears with how much it fucking costs.”

“I want to fucking unhinge my jaw and swallow you whole like a fucking python.”

“Is this how you flirt with everyone?” Eddie laughs, moving to sit on his bed, waving for Richie to come with him. Which he does, snatching his backpack from Eddie’s desk before plopping down onto his bed, turning to face the smaller man with an adoring smile still pulled across his face.

“No, I swear; usually I’m, like, smooth and charming and debonair. You just fill me up with all this nervous energy that I don’t know what to do with. It feels kinda like when I was 12 and I didn’t know why swimming with my friends was giving me boners, so I started just tackling them and starting fights with them every chance I got.”

“I think I get what you mean. I had a huge, _huge_ crush on this other boy in my ballet class when I was, like, 10, but I didn’t know what the fuck to do with all the feelings I had, so I picked fights with him literally every chance that I got. I was _mean_ to that poor kid. It got to the point where he had to be switched out of my class and into a different one, which I thought I would find relieving since I was convinced that I hated him, but I cried about it.”

“That is, like, peak gay culture. Which sucks, but I feel like that’s a pretty universally shared experience amongst queer boys growing up. Probably girls, too.”

“Yeah, well, when boys are taught that being aggressive is the only acceptable form of contact to have with other boys, that ‘I like you so much that I want to put your fucking head through a window’ energy is bound to linger. Which is why I'm terrified of having sons."

“I feel like you’d be a really amazing role model for them to have, though. I mean, god, look at you. You turned out okay. Great, even. You should be really proud of yourself for the person you turned out to be, despite having no support from your family, Eds. That’s pretty incredible,” Richie tells him sincerely, and Eddie’s throat chokes up, and he doesn’t know what the fuck to say. And a voice in the back of his head is quietly screaming _not true, not true, you’re a fuck up, look at what you let happen to you last night._

“I- I- I mean, I didn’t really- I don’t-”

“You gotta learn how to take compliments, Eddie my love,” Richie says gently, reaching out to brush his fingers over Eddie’s where his hand is resting on his thigh.

“I’m- I’m trying to be better about it. It helps that you compliment me so much, to be honest; it’s like exposure therapy,” Eddie jokes lightly, but his heart is beating against his ribs, and it gets worse when Richie scoots closer to him, covering Eddie’s hand with his own.

“If you ever want to try to get over it all at once, I’d be perfectly willing to spend a whole day trying to explain to you just how wonderful and beautiful and sexy I think you are. I mean, I’d rather _show_ you, but I think I’d break you before I got it all out of my system,” Richie says so softly that it’s almost a whisper, bringing his hand up to brush Eddie’s hair behind his ear. Eddie knows he’s breathing heavy, and he’s red in the cheeks, and he’s definitely licked his lips, based on how Richie’s eyes flicker down to his mouth. “Or I’d blow your back out, and we’d have to go to the ER, and I fucking hate hospitals.”

Eddie’s brain takes a minute to process what he said and then he shoves Richie lightly on the shoulder, rolling his eyes. Richie laughs, and he’s thankful for the break in tension, because he was getting worried that he was going to start getting hard. God, what is he, 14? This is ridiculous.

“How the fuck do you get anyone to sleep with you?” he grumbles, and Richie shrugs.

“Good question, honestly. I didn’t have to try all that hard last night, though; you seemed perfectly willing,” he laughs, and Eddie whips his head over to look at him so fast that he feels his neck crack.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Richie looks so amused that Eddie sort of wants to punch him. “Do you not remember when you basically dragged me to the ground and shoved your hand down my pants last night? You were like ‘Please fuck me Richie, fuck me, fuck me with your big cock,’” Richie imitates, and Eddie unfortunately _does_ remember, and goes bright red in embarrassment.

“I didn’t say that!”

“You fucking absolutely did! You said, verbatim, ‘it feels so big Richie, I want it inside of me, please.’ It’s burned into my brain. I jerked off thinking about it this morning. That was honestly one of my proudest moments,” Richie sighs, leaning back to lie back on Eddie’s bed and look dreamily at the ceiling, which Eddie is thankful for, because he’s blushing so badly that he wants to hide.

“I was drunk, I didn’t know what I was saying; don’t let it go to your head, champ.”

“It already has, it’s honestly the only thing in there at this point. Just a loop of you begging me to fuck you and telling me how big my cock is. That’s who I am now.”

“Yeah, well, I have small hands, so.”

“Don’t remind me, I already have a boner.”

“Didn’t you come here to feed me? Are you just gonna sit there and jerk yourself off the whole time you’re here while I starve?” Eddie bitches, and Richie sits back up, dragging his backpack up onto the bed.

“Sorry, got distracted thinking about your ass in those shorts,” Richie comments, and this time Eddie does punch him on the shoulder, and Richie laughs before unzipping his backpack.

“Okay, so there’s a coffee shop right off of campus that I was going to take you to, but I figured we could do that another time, since you’re probably pretty tired and shit. So I got a toasted almond latte and cranberry-orange muffins, because they’re honestly the two best things they have there. Oh, and some bacon. Fat is supposed to be good for hangovers; not sure how true that is, but I figured it couldn’t hurt,” Richie explains, pulling a thermos and two tupperware containers out of his backpack.

Eddie must look confused, because he is. “They give you a discount if you bring your own reusable containers. It’s super cool, they’re really earth conscious. You can round up your bill too and they donate it to a bunch of different conservation effort charities,” Richie explains with a shrug, and Eddie feels a fond little smile creep up on his face, and Richie must notice it too, because he lets out a nervous laugh.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just didn’t expect you to be the earthy-crunchy type,” Eddie explains, watching as Richie pours some of the latte into two tin thermos cups and takes the lids off of the containers.

“Yeah, well, gotta make up for the millions of fish I’ve probably murdered smoking cigarettes for the past decade,” he responds, and Eddie almost lectures him on how terrible that is for your health, and how if he’s been smoking since he was fucking _eleven_ his lungs are probably extremely stunted and that he should stop _immediately,_ but he swallows it down.

“Fair enough,” he responds instead, taking one of the cups from him.

They sit and eat their muffins and drink their coffees, and Eddie avoids the bacon, because it’s an insane amount of calories. He’s sure the latte and the muffin are already bad enough, he’s definitely not going to pile onto it.

They chat a little bit about their classes and other stupid bullshit, but they keep circling back to the party, and Eddie really wishes they could just _not,_ because he does not want to talk about it anymore, for fucks sake.

“People were really getting _messy_ last night. I mean, that’s always kind of how it is, but something about Halloween just, like, brings something out in people. When I was leaving, there was a girl passed on the front lawn. She was just wearing a cheerleading costume, just like, splayed out, passed the fuck out. And it was fucking cold last night. Wild shit,” Richie shakes his head, and Eddie feels a lump in the back of his throat.

“Did you leave her there?” he asks carefully, and Richie scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“She did it to herself, she was asking for it,” he replies, looking at Eddie directly in the eyes, and Eddie’s breath catches in his throat, and he feels his eyes start watering immediately, and he feels so, so sick.

Something in Richie's expression shifts. “Eddie, oh my god, I’m joking. Of course I didn’t leave her there, I’m not a monster,” he says firmly, and Eddie’s scalp is tingling so bad that it’s almost painful.

“You didn’t?”

“No, fuck. I was joking, I wouldn’t do that,” he insists. “I woke her up and called her a Tip Whip. I wouldn’t do that, Eddie,” he continues, and Eddie lets out a breath. "I'm not that type of guy."

“That’s not- that wasn’t a funny joke,” he says slowly, trying to keep his voice firm and steady.

“I’m sorry, I know it wasn’t. Jesus christ. That wasn’t funny. That was a super fucked up thing to joke about. I keep forgetting you don’t know me that well,” Richie rambles, and Eddie still can’t get his muscles to relax.

“There are- there are a lot of people who _would_ just leave her there, Richie. There’s a lot of people who _would_ say she was asking for it. You get that, right? A lot of guys would have- would have-” he cuts himself off, and Richie’s hands keep twitching, like he wants to move them and he’s trying not to.

“Yes, Eddie, of course I do. I know. I don’t know why I said that. I guess it just seemed like such a ridiculous question so I thought-”

“What do you mean it was a _ridiculous_ question?”

“I mean, like, I wouldn’t ever think to do something like that, so my brain just was immediately like ‘oh, he’s joking, make a joke back,’ and that’s what came out, and I’m _so_ fucking sorry if I upset you,” he explains, and a pang of guilt hits Eddie in the stomach, because he’s right. Why the fuck _would_ he assume that Richie might leave somebody in a position like that? That was kind of fucked up of _him,_ wasn’t it?

“I- no, I’m sorry, you’re right. I’m just- that kind of stuff bothers me. I didn’t mean to make it seem like I think you would do that,” he explains, and Richie relaxes his shoulders.

“It still wasn’t a cool joke to make. I say stupid shit a lot and my mouth moves faster than my brain. Bev actually originally called me Motormouth.”

“It’s fine, it’s okay. I’m sorry too,” Eddie says softly, and Richie just stares at him, and it’s quiet.

“So was that our first fight?” he asks after a moment, and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Hardly. I don’t give up that easily when I’m arguing.”

“You know what, good point. I guess technically our first fight was last night, when you bullied me into giving you more coke. You might not remember that part either, though,” Richie jokes, but Eddie remembers that, too.

“Coke is fun. I like it. I don’t know if I should do it all that often, though, because I just immediately wanted to do more and more and more, which is probably how people end up dead or smoking crack,” Eddie says, and Richie snorts out a laugh.

“Very, very true. It’s also how people start becoming too trusting and get slipped molly instead of coke, Edward,” he gently scolds, and Eddie is suddenly very aware of the weight of the food in his stomach.

“Sure is,” he responds, though his brain is firing off again, and this is why he didn’t want to fucking talk about this anymore, because now he can’t stop thinking about how he doesn’t know who it was, and he doesn’t know when they drugged him, and that he’s really only guessing it was molly, since he can’t be sure. But based on what he’s heard about MDMA and how it makes you feel, it makes sense, because he remembers being so hot and sweaty and sensitive all over, and if he hadn’t had it in his system, things might have gone differently last night. 

_I gave you something special to make you feel good. You were taking drinks from everyone._

“Did you like it?” Richie’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts, and he can’t read the expression on Richie’s face, and it’s not helping his brain to stop sounding off.

“W-what?”

“I mean I know it was probably pretty scary at first, but once you calmed down, did it feel good? Did you like it?” Richie asks softly, and Eddie feels panic creeping up his back and into his scalp as his hair stands up on end.

“Like-Like what?” he manages to ask, though his voice feels strangled in his throat.

“Molly.”

“I-I- no, no,” Eddie says, shaking his head once.

“Come on, Eds; you didn’t like it at all, not even a little bit?” Richie presses, and Eddie is having a hard time making eye contact with him.

“I-I was more scared than anything, given the circumstances,” he eventually says slowly.

“Yeah, makes sense. If you ever want to do it again sometime under different circumstances, let me know,” Richie offers with a wink, and then he leans over again to take Eddie’s hand, and Eddie has to stop himself from flinching away. He knows his hands are sweaty, but Richie doesn’t seem to notice, or he doesn’t care, because he folds their fingers together in Eddie’s lap.

And Eddie knows he needs to fucking calm down, because he has no reason to be so freaked out right now. He isn’t in any danger, there’s nothing to be so panicky about. Except maybe what he’s planning on saying next. But now feels like a better time than any, and he wants to just rip it off like a bandage.

“Um...yeah, I will. I...um...wanted to tell you, I didn't...I didn’t mean to be too much, or go too hard and be a burden on you. I just wanted to have fun, and it was, like...I don’t know, it was really easy to let loose with you there, I guess. So I’m sorry for being extra. I honestly just wanted to get your attention, more than anything. Because I… I really like you, a lot.”

“I like you too, Eds. I like you a lot, especially after last night,” Richie assures with a smile. “You really fucking threw down, I didnt think you would go that hard. And you definitely got my attention. I think you got everyone's attention, in that outfit. Dare I say you looked positively fuckable.”

“T-Thank you.”

“You were a real head turner. Think I even saw some straight dudes popping chubbies watching you.”

“You didn’t think it was too much?” Eddie asks softly, looking down into his lap at their fingers laced together, and it’s making him feel lightheaded.

“Not at all. You're crazy hot, no shame in flaunting it,” Richie assures with a squeeze to Eddie’s hand, and Eddie smiles up at him, and he’s realizing with a flood of relief that Richie didn’t fucking reject him, and he starts giggling, and Richie looks confused but starts laughing with him.

“What’s so funny, baby doll?”

“Can we go on a date? Like a real date?” Eddie asks through his giggling, and Richie nods immediately, which makes him feel another rush of excited relief.

“Of course, where do you want to go?”

“I don’t really know the area all that well…”

“It's cool. We'll go to this Mexican place, they do $1 tacos and $3 margaritas on Tuesdays.”

“I'm not old enough to drink,” Eddie argues, though it’s truthfully because the idea of drinking again is making him feel like he’s going to have a panic attack, but he doesn’t really know how to say that. 

“I know that's a lie, I remember last night quite well, though I'm figuring you might not,” Richie jokes, playfully bumping Eddie with his elbow. “It's cool, I'll buy for you. Just don't tell anyone, I don’t want to get arrested for your jailbait-looking ass.”

“Yeah, o-okay. Yeah. Sounds like fun,” Eddie agrees, pulling on a smile. He reaches for the thermos to pour himself more coffee, and Richie reaches into his backpack.

“Awesome,” he says, holding up what looks like a vape, and Eddie makes a face.

“Is that a vape?”

“It’s a dab pen.”

Eddie bites his lip, trying to think of something to say that won’t make him sound super lame.

“I have class in an hour.”

“So do I,” Richie laughs, taking a hit right there in Eddie’s room, and Eddie wants to freak, but it doesn’t really smell, so he decides to try and be cool about it. Because it’s not a big deal, he can be cool.

“Okay,” he eventually agrees, and takes the dab pen from Richie’s hands. He’s only ever smoked weed a few times, and it was always from a pipe. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.

He presses the little button on the side and takes a tiny inhale, and it’s weird, because it doesn’t really taste like weed. It also doesn’t really feel like anything going in or coming out, so he immediately takes a second, deeper hit.

“Slow it down there, Chief Keef,” Richie says, taking it from him with a laugh. “Have you ever done dabs before?”

“Um...no.”

“Then take it easy. It’s a lot more intense than smoking,” he explains, then takes another hit himself, and Eddie feels super lame. But he doesn’t argue, because Richie is probably right.

“What, like...what kind is it?” he asks dumbly, and Richie raises an eyebrow at him.

“Like what strain?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Don’t know exactly, but it’s Indica. Figured your anxious little ass might need it.”

Eddie takes another sip of his coffee and watches Richie, quietly observing the way that he breathes, and how he fiddles with the various bracelets on his wrists, and how he shakes his leg and picks at his cuticles and brushes his hands through his hair. And Eddie really likes that. Likes all of it. He could just watch Richie exist all day.

And Richie looks at him too, and he’s got the dopiest, most beautiful smile on his face, and Eddie feels so content right now, which is pretty crazy, considering. But he’s happy. So he doesn’t force it, and he tangles his legs together with Richie’s, and he lets himself be happy.

He starts to realize that he’s high when Richie talks to him, and it takes Eddie’s brain a second longer to process it.

“Hmm?”

“I asked if you’re all good or if you want another hit, though I’m thinking you’re probably set,” Richie laughs, rubbing his hand up and down Eddie’s leg, and Eddie smiles at the feeling.

“Nah, give me one more.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Eddie insists, taking the dab pen from Richie’s fingers again.

He’s just lifting it to his lips when the door opens, and he swore he locked it. But apparently not, because Stan comes walking through the door, and he has a smile on his face, but it wipes away as soon as he sees Eddie sitting there with a dab pen held to his lips and his socked feet in Richie’s lap, definitely pressing up against his dick on purpose.

Eddie freezes, like Stan might not see him if he sits still enough. But then he steps into the room and closes the door behind him, placing a reusable shopping bag on Mike’s desk before turning back to Eddie’s bed, eyeing him carefully.

“Are you smoking weed?” he asks, and Eddie flinches.

“N-No, I...yeah, yes,” he says, and Stan’s expression stays unreadable.

“You probably shouldn’t be doing that in the dorm,” he states simply, then turns to acknowledge Richie for the first time. “I’m Stanley, nice to meet you,” he says with a tight smile, and Eddie is still trying to get his body to move.

“Richie. Well, Richard, but I go by Richie,” he says awkwardly, and Stan nods, walking over to the bag that he left on the desk.

“Eddie, I brought you some water and some cantaloupe. Figured you probably need to hydrate,” he says, and Eddie’s body finally decides to move, though it’s so sudden and graceless when he does that Richie lets out a small ‘oof’ when Eddie’s foot presses into his lower abdomen.

“Fuck!” he shouts when there’s a fucking burning hot sensation all over his crotch, and he realizes that he still had the cup of coffee in his lap, and he’s just spilled it all over himself.

Stan and Richie both move to help him at the same time as he shoots out of the bed, grabbing at his crotch.

"I'm good, I'm fine. Fucking...ugh. Ugh!" Eddie complains, grabbing clean clothes from his dresser and a laundry detergent pod from under his bed before stomping towards the door. "Guess I'll be fucking back!" He bitches before slamming the door shut, and Richie is quietly laughing to himself, and Stan narrows his eyes at him.

"So, you and Eddie had a good time last night?" Stan takes the opportunity to ask, trying to look casual where he's seated on Mike's desk, though the white-knuckle grip that he has on the lip of the desktop is probably giving away how tense he is.

"Yeah, it was great. I think Eddie had a better time than anyone else there. Didn’t expect him to be such a little party monster," Richie replies fondly, and Stan almost, _almost_ cuts him some slack, until he opens his mouth again. "On behalf of myself and everyone else there last night, thank you for dressing him up in that little outfit, by the way. Like, god damn. You're a visionary, because that was a fucking work of art."

Stan smiles tightly, his nails drumming on the formica underneath him. "Do you know what time he left?"

"Not sure. Sorry he got in so late last night, that was probably… definitely my fault," he replies, but the way he's laughing and relaxing back against the wall behind him leads Stan to believe that he isn't sorry at all.

"He didn't get in last night at all, he didn't get here until nearly 8 in the morning," Stan snaps, and this fucking moron finally has the sense to realize that Stan is pissed, based on how he raises his hands in surrender.

"I thought he came back here, my bad."

"So you just...had absolutely no idea where he was? And you left?" Stan drills, and this asshole just shrugs.

"I mean…he told me he was all good."

"He was also nearly blackout drunk, so I'm not sure why you'd take his word for it."

Richie pauses, clearly trying to contain what Stan can only assume is an amused laugh or something equally as disrespectful.

"We talked about it when he was sober beforehand, too, about him coming with his friends. I didn't exactly give him the third degree about it because he's an adult. Besides, would you really want him relying on some random guy to keep him safe? Who knows what kind of trouble he could get himself into with a degenerate like me?" he asks rhetorically, apparently unable to keep the smirk off of his face that’s making Stan want to fucking slap him.

"Did you know he's actually not an adult yet? His 18th birthday is on the 11th," Stan informs him, and he's not even totally sure why, but he's hoping it will make him take this situation a little more seriously. But he looks more confused than anything.

"Uh...okay? I meant more that he's, like, capable of making his own choices-"

"I just wanted to make sure that you know he's still technically a minor."

"Are you accusing me of something? Trying to threaten me, Stanley?" he asks with an amused smirk, crossing his arms across his chest.

"No, just figured you should probably know, considering," Stan grits out, trying to contain the urge to strangle him.

"I mean, the age of consent in Maine is 16, isn’t it?"

"Yes, but-”

“So I’m in the clear to pipe him; not sure why you’re grilling me about it," he interrupts with that fucking smirk on his face. _Pipe him._ Stan can feel his teeth grinding together.

“That wasn’t really my point.”

"Got it, still got 10 days before it's 'elopement' instead of 'kidnapping,'" he laughs, and Stan has officially had enough.

"It's Richie, right? Listen, Richie, you seem like a… you seem fine. But I feel like maybe you don’t fully grasp the situation, here," he says firmly, and Richie's eyes light up in something akin to _glee,_ and Stan's skin is crawling looking at it.

“Is this, like, your version of polishing your shotgun when the boyfriend comes over? Are you trying to scare me away? Because I thought you were Eddie’s friend, not his dad. And you definitely don't scare me," he replies lowly, leaning forward to look at Stan, as if he's challenging him.

“I am his friend, and when you see your friends making mistakes, you-”

“So I’m sensing that you think I’m a mistake, then?”

“No offense," Stan snarks, and Richie let's out another amused chuckle.

“None taken, I definitely am. I just think that’s something you should let him figure out on his own. He's a big boy, Stanley. Let him make his own mistake and learn his lesson."

Stan cannot fucking read this guy's expression, and he finds himself sizing him up, like he'd actually get into a fight with him. Which he would, if he had to. But he doesn't do things like that, because he's not that fucking immature.

They're still staring each other down when Eddie comes tumbling back into the room in an anxious flurry.

“Ugh, I can’t believe I did that, I’m such a fucking idiot,” Eddie grumbles when he turns to close the door, dressed now in cuffed black chinos and a red and white striped sweater. “I’m lucky I didn’t get any on my bedding, considering I just fucking washed it. Doing laundry here is so expensive,” he continues to ramble, and Stan and Richie exchange one last tense look before Eddie turns around to look at them.

“I mean, on the bright side, you look equally as adorable in this outfit,” Richie offers, and Eddie rolls his eyes with a little grin on his face that Stan definitely makes note of. He also makes note of the way Richie is blatantly ogling him, like Stan isn't even in the room.

“Right, and on the shitty side, I probably just wrecked my favorite overalls with coffee stains.”

“Nah, I’m sure it’ll come out in the wash. If not, we can just pop by Baby Gap and get you another pair,” Richie teases, and Eddie glares at him, but it's flirtatious and soft, and Stan hates it. “Plus we match now,” he winks, gesturing to the burgundy crew neck and black pants that he’s wearing.

Eddie goes red and looks down, and Richie laughs at the flustered look on his face.

“Shut up.”

“It’s cute, honestly.”

"I will kick your ass."

"I would absolutely _love_ to see you try, baby doll."

"I'm stronger than I look."

"Somehow I really, sincerely doubt that."

Eddie lunges at him and Richie catches both of his arms, pulling him down onto the bed by his biceps. He pins him down and Eddie lets out a yelp, and Richie slides his hands down his sides, and Stan is going to fucking say something.

“I win,” Richie whispers, before sticking his tongue out to lick across Eddie’s cheek.

“Ugh! Ew!” Eddie screeches, but he’s laughing, and Richie is laughing too when he lets go of him, allowing Eddie to sit back up. “You’re so fucking gross! Did you brush your teeth yet today?!”

“I haven’t brushed my teeth yet this week.”

Whatever Eddie is about to yell in response is interrupted by the door opening, banging against the wall as it does. Mike and Bill come nearly storming in, one after the other, capturing the attention of the other 3 men.

Mike looks absolutely pissed, and it’s almost enough to make Stan feel guilty for coming early so that he could meet Richie before the two of them. Almost. But he learned valuable information from doing it, so he doesn’t feel too bad.

“There you are, dove; we were wondering where you went,” Mike says, clearly trying very hard to hide how mad he is.

“Hi baby,” is all that Bill offers, along with an awkward wave, and Richie whips his head around to look at Eddie.

“Is this-?”

“Yes,” Eddie whispers in warning, elbowing him in the ribs.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Mike.”

“I’m Bill; you must be Richie, right?”

“In the flesh.”

“Why are you guys here? You’re not usually home. I mean, like, you guys don’t usually come home at this time, not that- not that you shouldn’t be or anything. Or, like-“ Eddie starts rambling, and Mike raises an eyebrow at him.

“Are you high?” he asks bluntly, and Eddie goes stiff, glancing at Richie in panic.

“I have plenty to go around,” is what Richie decides to say, and Eddie smacks him.

Luckily Mike laughs, much to Eddie’s surprise. “I appreciate the offer, but I still have class, so I’m set.”

“What about you, Big Bill?”

“Also have class,” Bill replies, glancing at Stan, who looks eerily calm where he’s still perched on Mike’s desk.

“I’d offer you some too, Stanley, but I get the feeling you don’t quite approve.”

“It’s not really my thing. I don’t particularly care if other people do.”

“Calling bullshit on that, given how you freaked when you walked in the room earlier,” Richie says very bluntly, and Mike, Bill, and Eddie are all holding their breaths, expecting Stan to blow up.

“I didn’t ‘freak.’ I think I had a pretty reasonable reaction, given that you’re smoking weed in the dorm, which can get you in serious fucking trouble, and Eddie has class soon,” Stan spits, and Richie lets out a chuckle.

“I mean…yeah, that’s fair. But neither of those things really, like, affect _you,_ do they? I mean, this isn’t even your room,” Richie replies, and the other three men in the room are still not breathing as the two men stare each other down. Stan is silent for a long moment before he smiles tightly, folding his hands in his lap.

“You’re right. It’s none of my business,” he eventually agrees, shocking all of them. “I just spent all morning being terrified that Eddie was dead, so pardon me for being on edge.”

“S-Stan, I… I said I was sorry,” Eddie offers miserably, and Richie wraps an arm around his shoulder, ruffling his hair in comfort. “I really…I really didn’t mean to.”

“I’m not mad at you, Eddie. In fact, I’m really glad you had such a good time. I guess I just expected that the guy who, you know, _invited_ you to the party in the first place would make sure you got home safely, and wouldn’t…” he pauses, looking directly at Richie, “wouldn’t put you in an uncomfortable position when you were drunk,” he eventually says, and Richie is giving him that amused smirk again.

“What exactly are you accusing me of, Stanley? Just say it. I mean, I think I have a pretty good idea, but you should definitely share with the class.”

“I don’t think I accused you of anything, but if it felt like an accusation, I suppose there’s your answer,” Stan quips back, and Richie actually laughs.

"For someone who knows fuck-all about me, you sure are making a lot of assumptions."

"I know you left Eddie at a party when he wasn't in the condition to care for himself, and that's all I really need to know, Richie. Getting him stoned before class and nearly fondling him in front of me just put the nail in the coffin." 

“Just fucking drop it, dude. He got home eventually, didn’t he? He didn’t sleep in a fucking gutter, he was with his friends.”

"S-Stop it!" Eddie yells, capturing everyone's attention. It takes a moment for his high-brain to think before he talks. "Richie didn't- didn't do anything to me, okay? It wasn't Richie's fault, it was mine. I- I disappeared without telling him, and I was the one who didn’t tell anybody where I was. I was the one who- who drank too much. It was my fault, okay? So please stop being mad at him about it. Be mad at me. I wasn't- wasn't being responsible for myself. So be mad at me." 

Stan feels a horrible, sinking feeling rip through him watching Eddie crying. It gets worse when Richie pulls him into his lap and starts wiping his tears, cooing softly at him while Eddie looks so broken, and yeah, okay, maybe this was a terrible idea. Maybe he shouldn't have done this. Because now all he's done is make Eddie feel bad, and given this Richie guy fuel for his fire, based on the way he's glaring daggers at Stan from where he's resting his chin on top of Eddie's head. 

"I-I'm sorry," Eddie is sobbing, and Stan shrinks under Mike's burning gaze, letting him know this was a doubly horrible idea. "I didn't mean to, I was just- I've never- I wasn't-" 

"Shh, baby doll; it's okay, you didn't do anything wrong," Richie is gently rocking him from side to side, and Eddie is clutching onto his sweatshirt with his head buried into his chest. And Stan's alarm bells are still firing off, because they barely fucking know each other, and Eddie shouldn't be leaning into him so much for comfort. 

He finally snaps out of his trance when Bill smacks him on the arm, frantically gesturing for him to do something, say something, anything. 

"Eddie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel so bad. I was just so worried about you. I know you didn't do it on purpose, okay? It's- it's all water under the bridge, okay? I'm sorry," Stan eventually says, standing up to approach the bed carefully, and Eddie flinches when he peeks out from Richie’s chest, which drops Stan’s heart into his shoes. 

“I promise I won’t do it again. I don’t know what else to do to make it up to you,” he says softly, his voice breaking halfway through. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to do anything, Eddie. I’m sorry,” he assures, reaching out to pet through his hair. He glances over at his boyfriends to see Mike gesturing towards Richie, still cutting eyes at Stan.

Stan takes a breath and resists rolling his eyes before turning to Richie. “Sorry, for making assumptions,” he says tightly, and Richie glares at him over the top of Eddie’s head. 

“Water under the bridge, right?” he replies, but it sounds sarcastic, and the way he has his eyes narrowed when he says it has Stan wanting to go off again. But he doesn’t, because Eddie is clearly very upset, and he can save it for another time, when he might be able to get Richie alone. 

“Baby doll, do you still want to go to class? It’s getting pretty late,” Richie asks Eddie gently, and Eddie sighs, nodding his head. 

“Yeah, I have to; attendance is, like, a third of my grade,” Eddie grumbles, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes. Richie pulls his hands away and wipes his cheeks with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, and Eddie is blushing the color of his sweater. 

“We should get going, then. I’ll walk you there.”

Eddie peels away from him and stands, taking a deep breath. He picks his backpack up off of the ground next to his bed and pulls it onto his shoulders, and Richie does the same, following Eddie to the door. 

“Um, Stan? I’ll see you in Psych later, right?” he asks carefully as he pulls on his sneakers, and Stan feels like such an asshole.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll switch your laundry to the drier before class,” he says, and Eddie gives him a small, appreciative smile before standing back up. 

“Are we still gonna get dinner together later?” he asks, glancing at Mike and Bill, and they both nod, giving him matching smiles that don’t quite reach their eyes.

“Yeah, we’ll meet you there,” Bill assures, and Eddie looks relieved before turning to walk out the door. 

“Kay. See you later.”

“It was nice to meet you guys,” Richie waves, his eyes lingering on Stan for a moment longer before he rests a hand on Eddie’s waist, following him out of the dorm. 

Once they’re in the hallway, Eddie sighs, leaning his head into Richie’s shoulder as they walk. 

“I’m so, so sorry about that. That was...that was really awful.”

“Not your fault. You didn’t do anything. I don’t get what his problem is with me,” Richie replies, letting go of Eddie’s waist to open the door and lead them outside.

“He’s just… I don’t know. He worries all the time. I mean, I worry a lot about everything too, but he’s, like...I don’t know.”

“Controlling?” Richie grumbles, lighting up a cigarette once they’re a few yards from the building. 

“I wouldn’t say he’s controlling, he’s just really...protective.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not his kid. You’re an adult. Or, almost, I guess,” Richie says, exhaling smoke out of his nose, and Eddie goes stiff.

“What...what do you mean?”

“He was very, very concerned with me knowing that you’re not 18 yet when you left the room. Like he was accusing me of trying to sex traffick you or something.”

“That fucking asshole,” Eddie mumbles, feeling anger bubble in is chest. Why the fuck would he do that? He’ll be 18 in less than two weeks, it isn’t like he’s 15 or something. He’s a legal adult. He’s got the fucking documentation to prove it.

“Yeah, pretty fucking much. He was, like, totally giving me the fucking ‘dad talk’ like I was your prom date that he was trying to intimidate or something. I’m not going to let him fucking talk to me like that. If his two cuck boyfriends want to let him treat them like children then fine, but I’m not-”

“Hey!” Eddie barks, stopping in his tracks. Richie stops a step later and looks back at him in confusion. “Don’t fucking talk about them like that. They’re my friends, you dick. And Stan was being an asshole, but Mike and Bill didn’t fucking do anything to you, so don’t say shit like that,” he nearly growls, and Richie drags a hand down his face.

“You’re right, sorry. I’m just worked up. I don’t usually leave situations where a guy is talking to me like he’s got some sort of fucking authority over me without things getting violent.”

“Yeah, well, Stan is my friend, too. And he stepped out of line, but he didn’t do it to be mean. He’s just worried about me. So chill out with the machismo.”

Richie sighs, reaching back to take Eddie’s hand in his free one as they start walking again. “I’m sorry. I was probably more aggro than I needed to be, too. I probably didn’t help the situation.”

“I’m just hoping this all blows over and we can all forget that all of this ever happened,” Eddie begs desperately, and Richie looks down at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“I didn’t think it was quite that bad,” he laughs, and Eddie grimaces.

“Yeah, well, these past couple of days have been a whirlwind, and I’d rather not be reminded about the bad parts anymore,” he says softly, and Richie squeezes his hand gently.

“So are you saying you want to make more good parts? I don’t want to be presumptuous, but I’m feeling pretty confident in my chances of getting a second date, and I believe I owe you a trip to the University art gallery.”

Eddie laughs and rolls his eyes, leaning further into Richie’s arm. “Yeah, I’d say your chances are pretty good.”

“Do you want to go tomorrow?” he asks, flicking his cigarette butt onto the ground before stomping it out with the heel of his boot.

“I thought it was closed on the weekends.”

“It is, but I have badge access, so I can go there whenever I want,” he shrugs, and Eddie bites his lip.

“But that doesn’t mean that _I’m_ allowed to be there,” he presses, and Richie shrugs again.

“So what? Who gives a shit. It’s not like we’re gonna fuck on the gallery floor. Unless…?” he jokes, and Eddie slaps him on the arm.

“Okay, fine. Yeah, let’s go tomorrow.”

“I’d offer to show you the studio space too, but I have a few works in progress up there right now that I’m not particularly ready to share, and I’m not confident that I’m gonna have very much time to work on them today,” he says, checking the time on his phone.

Eddie immediately panics. “Oh my god, are you supposed to be there right now? Why didn’t you tell me! What the fuck! Why are you wasting your time walking me to class, go to the fucking studio!” 

“Chill, Eds; it’s not a big deal. I’m only gonna be, like, ten minutes late. Besides, I put in extra time last week, so I’m not gonna lose credit or anything,” Richie assures, but Eddie still feels bad.

“You shouldn’t make yourself late to class for me,” he says firmly, and Richie lets go of his hand to wrap an arm around his shoulders, bringing him in closer.

“I would much rather walk your ass to class than go sit in a room with a bunch of art majors for two hours, trust me. Those motherfuckers are all so insufferable.”

Eddie snorts out a laugh as Richie ruffles his hair, and Eddie’s heart feels so light in his chest that he almost thinks the good really might outweigh the bad of these past few days. Not quite, but it’s getting there, he hopes. Hopefully it’ll continue to, if he plays his cards right. 

The rest of his day doesn’t suck as badly as he was worried it might, which is good. He was kind of worried that Richie wouldn’t still text him during the day after they met in person, but when he gets out of his pre-calculus class to walk to psychology, he already has a text from him. It’s a video of him petting a dog on his way to class, and Eddie is so lost in his own world while he’s watching it that he doesn’t feel someone come up beside him on the pavement. 

When someone grabs his shoulder, he nearly leaps out of his skin, and lets out a yelp so loud that it draws the attention of others nearby. He whips around to see Stan, looking at him with his eyes wide and his hands up in front of him.

“Hey, didn’t mean to scare you. I said your name twice,” he explains carefully, and Eddie relaxes his shoulders. 

“Hey, sorry, I was distracted,” he says, placing his phone back into his pocket. “I wasn’t just ignoring you or anything, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Stan replies, giving him a look that he can’t quite decipher. “Can I walk with you to class?” 

“Yeah, duh.”

They start toward the hall that they share their psychology lecture in, and Eddie can’t decide if he wishes that Stan would speak, or wishes that he would stay quiet, but either way, he’s nearly crawling out of his skin with the tangible tension between them. 

“I just wanted to personally apologize again for my behavior earlier,” Stan begins, and yeah, silence would have been better. “I didn’t mean to upset you, and I wasn’t trying to be hostile or anything. I was just worried about you, and...I don’t know. I don’t _dislike_ Richie, he just seems…”

“Seems what?” Eddie snaps defensively, and Stan sighs. 

“He just doesn’t seem like your type.”

“Why? Because he’s, like, interesting and cool and I’m the living embodiment of that feeling you get before you have to speak in public?” Eddie tries to joke, but Stan doesn’t laugh.

“You just never did these things before. Staying out all night, partying, getting high before class...I don’t know.”

“Are you saying he’s a bad influence on me? I- I went to one party, Stan. One time. And...and yeah, okay, it was probably a bad idea to smoke before going to pre-calc because I definitely wasn’t paying attention the whole time, but is it that big of a deal? Isn’t college supposed to be, like, fun? I’m having fun, why is that a bad thing?” Eddie rambles, and Stan gives him another one of those calculating looks that make Eddie feel small.

“I’m not saying it’s bad to have fun. I’m just saying that...you don’t have to do these things for him to like you. Or, rather, you _shouldn’t_ have to. If he’s pressuring you-”

“He’s not,” Eddie defends. “All of the choices I’ve made, I made myself, okay? Can we please just- just forget about last night and move on? It’s never, ever going to happen again. I promise, Stan. It was all a giant misunderstanding, and it’s not fair to judge Richie because of my fuck up. I...I really, really like him, Stan. I _really_ like him, and I want this to work out. So please. _Please.”_

Stan gets this look on his face like he’s in pain, and Eddie panics, because maybe he’s being too extra. Stan is going to know something is up. 

“Yeah, Eddie, of course. I’m sorry. Consider the slate wiped, okay? We should plan a time to hang out so I can get to know him better. I made a bad first impression,” Stan eventually says, and Eddie is surprised, but relieved.

“Y-Yeah, definitely! I’ll ask him. Thank you.”

“Of course.”

“We’re hanging out again tomorrow and I’m...I feel like I’m dreaming _._ I’m like...I’m bugging,” Eddie tells him with a giddy smile, vibrating with energy. 

“I’m so happy for you,” Stan says, holding the door to the lecture hall open for Eddie to walk inside. He doesn’t sound very happy, but whatever, Eddie isn’t going to let it get him down. 

Dinner that night is a little tense, mostly because Eddie can definitely tell that things are weird between Mike and Stan right now, and Bill is desperately trying to stay out of it, based on how he occupies the entire time talking to Eddie and avoiding the eyes of his boyfriends. 

Eddie doesn’t bother asking because he knows it’s probably about earlier today, and he’s really just _done_ talking about it. Why does everyone around here dwell so fucking much? They can all move on and pretend it didn’t happen, and life will go on like normal. Except that now, Eddie has a- a boy _thing._ And that’s the only part of the past couple of days that he would care to dwell on. 

Well, okay, maybe dwelling on it a little less would be nice, because he finds himself absolutely unable to sleep that night because he’s so excited about the next morning. It’s not like being nervous for the party was, because that was scary. This feels like waiting for Santa as a kid.

He tries to keep his eyes closed and force it, but he can’t, so he pulls his phone out from underneath his pillow. He squints at the light and pulls up his texts, the last of which was a goodnight text from Richie, and he’s smiling and blushing into his pillow like a moron reading it again.

_R: Sweet dreams, beautiful. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow_

It’s late, but Richie is definitely still up, so Eddie decides to just see what he’s up to, because he can’t sleep anyway. He worries for a minute that it might be clingy, but it’s not like he’s going to keep texting him if he doesn’t respond, so he figures it’s fine.

_E: I can’t sleep_

A few moments go by before he sees Richie typing a response, and his heart is already floating to the ceiling. 

_R: Is this a 2am booty call text? Because I can be there in 5 if I sprint_

_E: Omg shut up, I just wanted to know what you’re up to you pervert_

_R: Just doing some shit at OGR. Almost done though so I’m going home soon_

_E: Is there another party?_

_R: Nah just a few people. Mostly brothers and their girlfriends_

_E: Sounds boring_

_R: It is_

_E: So why bother?_

_R: I just had to help a friend with some shit. This is for business, not pleasure, trust me._

_E: Business?_

_R: Hard to explain._

Eddie wants to press the issue, because he doesn’t know what the fuck that’s supposed to mean, but he doesn’t. It’s not his place, he doesn’t want to seem overbearing.

_E: Got it._

_I mean, not really, but I get it_

_Nevermind, I’m stupid so I’ll stop talking lol_

_I can leave you alone if you’re busy_

_Didn’t mean to bother you_

_R: I literally never want you to leave me alone_

_You can bother me any time baby doll_

_E: Stop being so gay to me_

_R: No can do, sorry chief_

_E: Don’t actually stop, I’m thriving on the attention_

_R: Good, because I’m not planning on going anywhere any time soon_

_Do you want to come over?_

A part of Eddie that he has been ignoring all day starts panicking, and he tries to shove it back down and put the lid on it, but a horrible thought passes through his mind before he’s able to: the frat brothers know what happened to him. Maybe all of them. He can never go back there.

_E: I’m good, I’m in my jammies and no part of me wants to get dressed and walk to OGR rn._

_I should get some sleep anyway_

_R: I meant to my apartment_

_I’m headed there now_

_Perfectly jammies-friendly environment_

_And I can think of a few ways to tire you out_

_E: Oh yeah? Like what?_

_Are we gonna run laps around the building?_

_R: I hate running_

_That sounds like a fucking nightmare_

_I’d rather do something I’m good at if we’re gonna be doing physical activity_

_E: So what then? Push ups?_

_R: I was thinking of toning my trapezius and my levator scapulae actually_

_E: Tf is that lol_

_R: The muscles I’ll need the most when you’re sitting on my face_

_E: Did you just google that so you could make that joke lol_

_R: Surprisingly no I just remember a lot from anatomy_

_What can I say, I’m practically an expert on the human body_

_If you want some tutoring I’d be more than willing to assist_

_E: Idk I’d probably be a difficult student_

_Might need remedial lessons_

_R: I like a challenge_

_Nothing more satisfying to a teacher than when your student reaches their academic climax_

_I’d love nothing more than to take my time with you_

_E: Are you sure you’re not the one trying a late night booty call?_

_Inviting me over at 2am, all the innuendo_

_Seems pretty textbook_

_R: I mean can you blame me? Look at you_

_I haven’t been able to stop thinking about your body_

_The way you were grinding your ass against my cock all night_

_I haven’t been that close to busting in my pants since I was in middle school_

_E: Is that what that was?_

_I thought you just had a summer sausage in your pocket all night_

_R: Do you want to come over and play hide the salami?_

_E: What happened to your 3 dates rule?_

_R: Rules are made to be broken after all_

_E: We’ll see how tomorrow goes champ, have some patience_

_R: Don’t know her_

_E: Well take a cold shower and get acquainted you heathen_

_R: Yeah yeah fine_

_E: I’m gonna go to sleep now Ron Jeremy_

_R: For someone who claims not to remember gushing over my dick you sure seem to be making lots of references to how big it is_

_E: Don’t let it go to your head._

_R: Which head?_

_E: Good night, you pervert_

_R: Sweet dreams baby, hope I make a cameo_

Eddie manages to get to sleep after that, despite how flustered he is. Flirting with Richie like this is sort of scary. He feels like it should be scarier, though, given the circumstances. It’s weird. Thinking about what happened as an isolated incident leaves him nearly stricken. Throughout the day, flashes of memory will make appearances, or he’ll accidentally let himself think about it, and he feels nausea punch through him so aggressively that his knees go weak. But thinking about Richie, and kissing Richie, and the way Richie was touching him all night...it’s still sparking something inside of him that he feels maybe shouldn’t be sparked, given the circumstances. 

Everything he’s ever read or seen or heard has said that having sex after you get- after something like _that_ happens to you- is one of the hardest parts of healing. Some people never do. And maybe it’s because Eddie doesn’t really have a frame of reference, or because he was so out of it, but...the idea of it doesn’t _feel_ scary, when it’s with Richie. He doesn’t know what will happen in practice, though.

He tries not to think about it too much before he falls asleep, because he doesn’t want to invite any unwanted dreams.

And it works, because he’s shockingly well-rested when he arrives outside of the arts building the next morning. He’s still got this nervous energy coursing through him that has him bouncing on his toes as he waits for Richie, and his heart nearly leaps out of his chest and runs to greet the man itself when Eddie sees him pull up in his car. He tries not to smile like an idiot, but Richie is smiling at _him_ like an idiot, so he allows himself not to feel too embarrassed about it. 

“How long have you been standing here? It’s cold outside,” Richie asks, wrapping Eddie up in his arms once he approaches. Eddie didn’t feel particularly cold before, but now that Richie is holding him against his warm chest, he can’t bear the thought of feeling the wind nip through the knitting of his sweater.

“Not very long.”

“You should be wearing a coat, baby doll.”

“You’re not wearing one,” Eddie points out defiantly, moving his head back from Richie’s chest to glare up at him.

“Yeah, well, I drove here and I have meat on my bones.”

“Barely,” Eddie scoffs, and lets out a yelp when Richie pinches him on the ass.

“I don’t remember asking for your sass this early in the morning, sweetheart,” he scolds, and it’s playful, but Eddie feels something in him stir at the authority in his tone.

Richie must notice how flustered he gets, because he looks amused, which just makes Eddie blush more deeply. 

“Whatever,” he eloquently mumbles, and Richie chuckles, guiding him to the entrance with a hand on his back. 

He swipes them into the building, and it’s eerily quiet. It has the same energy as an empty library, and Eddie is afraid to make any sound at all, so he nearly startles out of his skin when Richie yells into the large room, listening to the echo bounce around the walls. 

“Jesus fucking christ!” Eddie yelps out, clutching at his heart. Richie is laughing at him, so Eddie slaps him on the chest, which makes him laugh harder.

“That’s the best part about being here when no one else is. You don’t have to be fucking silent like you’re at a funeral or something. That’s part of what bothers me about art galleries and museums and shit. Why do you have to be quiet? Like you’re gonna disturb the fucking artwork if you speak? It’s stupid.”

“I think it’s so that you don’t disturb other viewers,” Eddie points out, and Richie rolls his eyes.

“If someone’s art doesn’t make you want to talk about it, it’s probably not very good,” he states, and Eddie doesn’t really have a retort to that. 

Richie turns on the lights, and Eddie can already see various pieces hanging on the walls and on pedestals in the aisles. Richie leads him around a corner and he follows, observing various pieces in passing as they walk. 

“The theme is portraits, which is pretty vague, but basically shit is organized in sections. So mine is with all the other realism pieces,” he explains, pulling Eddie around another corner, and then he’s faced with a large charcoal portrait of a woman. 

And honestly, at first, he thinks it’s a black and white photograph. But he gets closer and realizes that it isn’t, and steps away again in awe to look at it in its entirety. 

The woman in the portrait looks like she’s laughing, and her eyes look so alive with emotion that Eddie’s gaze lingers there for a long moment before taking in the halo of dark, wavy hair around her head. She’s looking off at something, and Eddie wonders what it is, if it’s making her light up like that.

“Wow,” Eddie sighs softly, unable to take his eyes away from Richie’s artwork. “This is gorgeous. Who is that?”

“It’s my mom,” Richie replies gently, and Eddie peels his eyes away to look at him out of the corner of his eye. He’s got this small smile on his face, and his eyes look shiny, and Eddie’s heart clenches in his chest. 

“Is..is she…” Eddie trails off, because there’s no delicate way to ask someone if their mother is dead. 

“Is she what?” 

Eddie pauses again, and Richie looks at him, his eyes going wide.

“Like, dead? No, no; she’s not dead,” Richie says with a laugh, and the mood lightens immediately. “I just...love her a lot,” Richie shrugs, and Eddie has to bite his lip to catch the fond smile that wants to stretch across his face, though he fails at containing it. 

“And she’s just, like, really supportive of me and all the stuff I want to do. Not that my dad isn’t, but he’s a doctor, so...I don’t know. It’s just different. He calls me out on my bullshit a lot, which is honestly a good thing, but I just get, like, freaked out that I’m disappointing him sometimes. It’s not like that with my mom. She supports everything I do. I could tell her I wanted to go to clown college or something and she’d be like, ‘That’s so wonderful, Richie!’ I was even more of a dickhead when I was a teenager and she was still always so patient with me, even when I really didn’t deserve it, and I probably deserved a fucking slap across the face. That’s just how she is, she’s the best,” he gushes, and Eddie is sort of shocked. He didn’t expect this side of Richie, but it’s incredibly endearing and, truthfully, adorable to see. 

“Well, I’m not an art critic or anything, but I’d say you captured that all insanely well in this portrait. She looks like she’s the kindest person alive. It’s like...I don’t know. It’s like I’m meeting her, since I’m seeing her the way that you must see her, if that makes sense?” Eddie tries to explain, and Richie beams, and _god,_ a fucking sasquatch-sized man shouldn’t be allowed to be this fucking cute. 

“You really think so? I initially drew it because I was going to give it to her for her birthday, but my professor wanted me to submit it for the exhibit so I’ve had too much time to think about it and criticize myself, and then I started second guessing the whole idea.” 

“Why? I think that’s an incredibly sweet gesture. I’m sure she would love that. I mean, I don’t know her, obviously, but I feel like giving her a piece of art that you made for her after it was in a gallery exhibit is about as valuable a sentiment as you can achieve,” Eddie shrugs, and Richie is fucking _blushing,_ and Eddie gets the urge to fucking tackle him into a hug, which he barely manages to resist. 

“I...I guess I never thought about it like that, but...yeah. I think you’re right. She’ll honestly probably cry. She cried last Christmas when my little sister gave her the shittiest hand knit scarf I’ve ever seen in my life, so it’s not like the bar is very high, but still,” Richie laughs, and he’s looking down at Eddie with the most genuine smile on his face, and Eddie can’t stop staring at him. 

“You have a sister?”

“Yeah. She’s the same age as you, actually; she just turned 18, like, a month ago.” 

“I thought you were gonna say she was, like, 13 or something based on how bad you’re claiming that the scarf was.”

“It looked like a fucking blind 7 year old did it so honestly, I went easy on her.”

“Well, if your mom cried over that, I’m sure giving her this will definitely earn you some biblical-flood-level waterworks, because this is, like...breathtaking,” Eddie tells him sincerely, turning back to look at the portrait again, and he can see now how her eyes are identical to Richie’s. He wonders if they’re the same brilliant blue color. 

He lets out a yelp that echoes in the gallery room when Richie hugs him around the waist and lifts him off of the ground, bringing Eddie to eye level, so close that their noses are almost touching. 

“Stop being so nice to me, Eduardo. I’m gonna fall for you too fast, and then you’re going to think I’m a creepy, clingy weirdo,” Richie warns, and Eddie goes red almost immediately. 

“Well-Well I like you a lot. I mean it. You’re so- you’re really great, Richie. I’m- fuck, I’m sorry, I don’t know how to do stuff like this. I just like you a lot. I’m really glad we met,” Eddie manages to get out despite his nerves, and Richie’s eyes are so soft staring into his own, and his heart feels like it’s fucking Irish stepdancing when Richie places him back onto the ground. 

“There you go again, making me want to kiss you senseless,” Richie mock-scolds, and Eddie’s blush only deepens. 

“I-I want to. Kiss me,” Eddie insists, already moving to stand up on his tip toes, supporting himself on Richie’s shoulders. 

Richie lets out a soft breath before grabbing Eddie around the waist and pulling him closer with one arm, while his other hand moves to cup the back of Eddie’s head. Eddie takes a breath too, before stretching up further to properly wrap his arms around Richie’s neck, boldly pressing their lips together as he does it. 

Richie sighs into his mouth before petting through the hair on the back of Eddie’s head, gripping the soft locks to press their mouths more firmly together, all while slowly moving his lips against Eddie’s.

Eddie’s heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of his chest and his whole body starts tingling when Richie starts gently licking into his mouth, and he meets him in the middle, allowing Richie to slowly slide their tongues together. 

And it’s so much better than their drunken, coked-out kiss at the party (which was still pretty good, Eddie thinks). This is...this is sweet, and slow, and it’s not backed by a desire to rip Richie’s pants off. It’s just kissing to kiss, and it’s so good, and Eddie finds himself sighing and gasping into Richie’s mouth at the feeling of lightness in his head. 

When they separate, Richie is looking down at him like he’s in awe, and Eddie’s skin goes hot underneath his sweater.

“W-What? Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“I want to say things that I shouldn’t.”

“What does that mean?” Eddie laughs, and Richie cups a hand around his cheek, rubbing gently over Eddie’s freckles with his thumb.

“Because they’re not things you should say to someone you only met two days ago,” he says softly, and Eddie’s internal monologue devolves into a screeching tea kettle. 

Richie leans down to kiss him again, and Eddie’s still trying to recover from his shock, so he’s clumsy in his movements to reciprocate. His hands scramble up to the collar of Richie’s flannel to bring him closer, as though he’s afraid Richie will try to pull away too soon. He doesn’t; he just kisses Eddie again in that same slow, languid way, gently brushing his fingers through his hair.

When he pulls away the second time, Eddie is panting, and his vision is sort of blurry, and his head feels like its swimming as he tries to get a hold of himself again. 

“T-Thank you,” is what comes spilling from his stupid mouth, and Richie laughs, his eyes crinkling up at the corners.

“No, thank _you,”_ he replies through his laughter, and Eddie buries his head in Richie’s chest.

“That was so stupid, why did I say that,” he mumbles miserably, and Richie laughs harder, rubbing circles into his back.

“How is everything you do so cute?” Richie asks him, sounding delighted, and Eddie pulls his head away to pout up at him.

“I don’t understand why you think it’s cute when I do stupid shit and make a fool of myself.”

“Because you do it with that adorable little flustered look on your face that makes me want to squeeze out all of your filling like a Twinkie.”

“Are you calling me a twink?” Eddie narrows his eyes, and Richie shrugs.

“I wasn’t, but it’s not an inaccurate description, to be fair.”

“You’re gonna look so stupid when my growth spurt eventually kicks in late like my doctor said it would in middle school,” Eddie tries to look serious, but he’s smiling before he finishes, and Richie is bent over laughing. 

“Okay, big guy, let’s get the fuck out of here,” Richie says through his laughter, and Eddie tries to contain his fondness as Richie grabs his hand and leads him back to the entryway, but he’s still smiling like an idiot, and his belly won’t stop fluttering.

Richie takes him to that coffee shop he was talking about, and it’s really quaint and cute. They have breakfast together, and Eddie feels almost like they’re a real couple, sitting together at the small cafe table and making eyes at each other. He’s never been this happy before, which is sort of a sad thing to realize, but it doesn’t feel that way. Not when Richie reaches across the table to hold his hand, and smiles at him like he’s the center of the universe, and genuinely laughs at the things that Eddie says. 

He nearly feels high by the time he’s sitting in Richie’s car on the way back to his dorm, and he really doesn’t want to end their date, but Richie has plans with Beverly before his shift at the radio station, and Eddie doesn’t want to insert himself into that. He wants to meet her, though. He hopes he’ll get to soon.

“Thanks for coming. Seriously, this was, like, one of the best days I’ve had in a really long time,” Richie tells him once they pull up outside of his building, and Eddie beams at him.

“Me too, I had so much fun. I- I really like hanging out with you,” Eddie tells him, and the way Richie is looking at him so fondly has him blushing across his cheeks. 

“Can I get a kiss goodbye?”

Eddie immediately unbuckles his seat belt to lean over the center console and presses their lips together, pushing Richie back up against the car window. He’s more forceful this time, and he isn’t sure why. He just has so much energy that he needs to get out, so he uses some of it to kiss Richie’s breath away.

When he pulls away, Richie is panting, and he looks surprised. “Damn, that was...A1,” Richie eventually says, and Eddie rolls his eyes, reaching for the door handle. “I think that gave me a heart boner.”

Eddie snorts out a laugh before climbing out of the car. “Text me?” he asks hopefully once he’s standing outside, wrapping his arms around his middle as the wind blows past.

“Of course, baby doll. Are we still on for Tuesday?”

“Unless you get sick of me before then.”

“Not a chance. Make sure you put on your drinking shoes, I’m going to get you so drunk and full of tacos that you’re gonna projectile,” Richie tells him, and Eddie laughs despite the bubble of anxiety that pops in his belly at those words.

“Sounds like a great time.”

“Bye, gorgeous.”

“See you,” Eddie waves as Richie pulls away. 

He stands there and watches his car for a moment, his belly flipping around in anxiety. He’s nervous about drinking again, which seems stupid. It’s not like it’ll be the same, it’ll just be him and Richie, more or less. Nothing to panic about. Just gonna be a date at a restaurant where they have some drinks. Casual. Not the same thing at all. 

He swallows down his nerves the best he can and makes his way into the building, his fingers already itching to pull his phone out to text Richie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are gonna get heavy in the next chapter, folks. Leave a comment, it fuels me. Honestly I was going to just take the L and wait a whole other day to post this but seeing the comments asking for it really motivated me. I'm a slut for attention.


	3. If you come inside, I promise to keep you warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm a ghost in training  
> Because my heart's been waning  
> Because of all the shit I've been eating  
> I know one day my heart will stop beating  
> I'm sorry for everything I've done  
> I'm sorry for every tear that's dropped  
> I'm sorry for all the times you didn't get to drive me home
> 
> I'm sorry for scaring you and for being  
> The selfish fuck I know I am.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey, I'm back baby. Sorry this update took a little longer, it is a little longer so it was kind of a beast. A whopping 25k. Woof. 
> 
> [ 'Eager to be Held' playlist for your disaster angst reading needs](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2u8K6ocYs6En71YbXDFMZ9?si=n-W6SVGmQk2m4PVTVUI8lg)
> 
> [ Come bother me on Tumblr ](https://bimmyshrug.tumblr.com/)
> 
> ****TRIGGER WARNINGS CONTAIN BIG SPOILERS FOR THE CHAPTER SO PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION*****
> 
> ////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////  
> TW: Disordered eating, mentions of a car crash, mentions of past child abuse, age difference, homophobic language, cocaine overdose (detailed description, pls take srsly, overdosing on coke is terrifying), dopamine crash, rape aftermath/ flashbacks, drug and alcohol abuse, fat shaming, panic attacks, slut shaming language, sexual content (dry humping), discussion of severe rape injuries, self-blame, Eddie is an insecure little bb who needs to be wrapped up in a heated blanket and snuggled  
> I think that's it but let me know if I should add any others  
> //////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
> 
> LOVE Y'ALL. Keep up the lovely comments as well as the vaguely threatening ones, I forage them and eat them for my breakfast

“I can’t believe they’re already going on another date,” Stan grumbles into his oatmeal, stirring it around and around and around as he drums his fingernails on the table with his other hand. “And they’re going to Marisol’s for fucking Taco Tuesday? Like that’s a fucking place to take someone on a date. What’s the goal? Give him fucking food poisoning?”

“Babe, come on. Chill out. There’s nothing wrong with two college students getting tacos. Where the hell did you expect Richie to take him? It’s only their third date,” Mike snips back, somehow managing to bite into his toast passive aggressively, and Bill winces as Stan glares at their boyfriend.

“Their third date in less than a _week._ Are you seriously trying to tell me they aren’t moving too fast?”

“No, I’m saying there’s no fucking harm in it. Who are they hurting? Besides you, apparently, since you’ve been agonizing over this for days, it seems.”

“Yeah, because apparently I’m the only one who gives a shit about the fact that this guy is obviously a creep,” Stan argues defensively, his voice rising enough in volume that Bill is shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“Why do you think he’s a creep, Stan? Because he’s _attracted_ to Eddie?”

“No, because of the...the _lecherous_ way he fucking looks at him. He was basically groping him when I walked in the room Friday! Eddie was clearly high and Richie practically had him in his lap. And did you not see the way he was fucking manhandling him? It’s...it’s emasculating- no, it’s _infantilizing_ at best, and fetishizing at worst,” Stan has his fists clenched on top of the table, staring Mike down with conviction. "I'm really, really not buying this whole 'a jerk to the world but a gentleman to his girl' thing that he's going for."

“He was fucking crying, Stanley; I don’t think it qualifies as manhandling if Richie was trying to fucking comfort him. And either way, I didn’t hear Eddie complaining. Since when is it infantilizing to hold someone when they’re upset? I didn't exactly see any malicious intent. He seemed genuinely concerned,” Mike argues back, and Stan rolls his eyes.

“You didn’t see them before that. You didn’t hear the way he fucking talked about Eddie when he wasn’t in the room. It was objectifying and disrespectful. They barely know each other and he had his fucking hands all over him.”

“So what if he did, Stan? It isn’t your place to decide what’s an acceptable pace for them to be moving at, physically or otherwise. If Eddie wants to be intimate with him, that’s his decision to make.”

“Eddie doesn’t fucking know any better. He talks about him like he’s fucking obsessed with this guy. He acts like he’s the most wonderful person in the world and I really don’t get why, considering that all he’s done is take Eddie to a party, fuck him when he was shitfaced, and then leave him there,” Stan seethes, and Bill is really, really reaching his limit with listening to his partners go at it like this.

“He ‘doesn’t know any better?’ Now who’s being infantilizing? Neither of them have said that that’s what happened, so what are you basing that assumption off of? What you want to be true so that you have justification for being as hostile and overbearing as you have been?” Mike bites, and Stan scoffs.

“Eddie probably doesn’t even fucking remember what happened!”

“And have you tried talking to him about it like we discussed the first time you needlessly inserted yourself into this situation, or are you still just connecting dots as you see fit?”

Stan goes silent, and Mike looks at him pointedly. “I’ll take that as a no,” he says dismissively, and Stan grimaces. “Oh, so you did talk to him, and you didn’t like what he said, that’s what’s going on here,” Mike realizes, and Stan presses his fingers between his brows and sighs.

“He wants me to let it go.”

“Yeah, I think we all do, at this point,” Mike agrees, and Bill flinches when Stan turns to him for the first time since this conversation began. He was honestly starting to think that neither of them remembered that he’s been sitting here this whole time.

“Please don’t drag me into this,” Bill sighs miserably, focusing very closely on pouring more cream into his coffee to avoid Stan’s gaze.

“I just want to know if you have an opinion on all of this.”

“And he said he wants to be left out of it, so leave him out of it,” Mike says firmly, subconsciously shifting closer to Bill protectively, and Bill doesn’t know if he should feel comforted or concerned.

“I just wish you guys would stop fighting about it, more than anything. It’s exhausting me. I don’t like being in the middle of all of this,” Bill admits softly, and Mike wraps an arm around his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you’re trapped in the middle,” he tells him softly, and Bill leans his head against Mike’s chest, letting some of the tension leak out of him in a sigh.

“Billy, hey,” Stan coos softly, reaching across the table to take both of his hands in his own. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t- I didn’t realize how much this was upsetting you,” he apologizes, and he and Mike exchange a look of understanding.

“I...I promise I’ll try let it go, okay? Unless I have a reason not to, I’ll just...I’ll chill out,” Stan concedes, and the appreciative looks that he gets from both of his boyfriends makes guilt well up in his belly. Maybe he did go too far.

“Eddie is really excited about this date, so let’s try to be supportive, alright? I know you’re worried, dove, but let’s just see how tonight goes, okay?”

Stan sighs but nods, and Mike reaches forward to rub a comforting thumb across the back of his hand that is still holding Bill’s.

“We all want what’s best for Eddie, just like you do, dove.”

Okay. Fine. Stan can agree with that. Let’s just see how tonight goes.

____________________________________________________________________________

“Does this look bad? I feel like this looks bad,” Eddie stresses while standing in front of the mirror on the back of the door, tugging on the sleeves of his shirt before he turns to address Mike where he’s doing homework on his bed.

“I think it’s just kind of wrinkly. Stan has an iron, if you need one.”

“I don’t have time,” Eddie sighs miserably, angrily unbuttoning the shirt before tossing it on top of his dresser. He turns to start rummaging through his closet again, and Mike glances up at him for a moment and looks back down at his laptop screen before his brain registers something odd, and he looks back up at Eddie, particularly where his jeans are tugging down the band of his underwear. And Mike swears he can see what look like fading, yellowish bruises near his hips. He narrows his eyes to try to see more clearly, but Eddie tugs his pants up higher, and they disappear again underneath the band of his underwear.

“Okay, what about this? Is this, like, casual enough, you think?” Eddie asks, turning around with a short-sleeved button down this time, a blue one with a white floral pattern.

Mike reacts quickly and snaps his eyes up before Eddie notices where he was staring, nodding before he even really registers what Eddie has asked him. “Um, yeah. Yeah, definitely, that shirt looks great on you,” he assures, offering Eddie an encouraging smile, but the gears in his brain are still turning, trying to process what he saw.

“Well, I guess it’s gonna have to do,” Eddie sighs, pulling the shirt on over his shoulders before buttoning it, smoothing it out over his middle in the mirror.

Mike looks back down at his laptop, but his eyes aren’t registering the words on the screen. Why the fuck would Eddie have bruises like that? Eddie definitely bruises easily, Mike learned that on move-in day when Eddie managed to bang his shins on every surface in the room, and his legs were polka-dotted for a week afterwards. And these are, like, little clusters of bruises, and he has them on both sides, so- so-

 _Oh, duh._ Duh.

Mike feels kind of stupid for that one. But he is sort of surprised. Stan has been so convinced that they’ve been having sex this whole time, but Mike never was. Eddie just doesn’t seem like the type to sleep with a guy that he just met.

But that’s Eddie’s business, not his. Although he’d be lying if he said he isn’t also surprised that Eddie likes it rough enough to leave bruises, but hey, he’s not judging at all. He’s not really in a position to judge, anyway.

He’s broken out of his thoughts when Eddie groans in frustration and rips his pants off of his legs, tossing those onto his dresser, too. He’s rummaging around again, presumably for a different pair of pants, when there’s a rhythmic knock on the door. He groans again more loudly, and there’s a muffled laugh in return.

“Hello to you too, baby doll,” Richie’s voice calls from the other side of the door. Eddie is hastily tugging a pair of black skinny jeans onto his legs as he makes his way to the door, and pulls it open as he’s zipping them up.

He halts as soon as he opens the door, and Richie lets out a snorting laugh.

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up,” Eddie grumbles, moving aside to let Richie into the room, and Mike lets out a laugh too when he sees that Richie is wearing a blue sweater and black pants as well. Richie waves at him as he walks into the room and Mike smiles at him in acknowledgment, and Richie looks like he appreciates the gesture.

“Are you looking to make a habit out of this? Because I’m super into it if you want to be _that_ couple,” Richie teases, and Eddie is blushing across his cheeks while he glares at Richie as he flops down onto Eddie’s bed.

“Now I’m gonna have to find something else to wear, so if we’re late, it’s your fault!” Eddie huffs, going back to his closet to search through his clothes again with increased frustration.

“Are you saying you don’t want to match me? Hurtful, Edward,” Richie feigns offense, and Eddie throws another glare at him over his shoulder.

“People will think we’re weird and did it on purpose.”

“Who gives a shit?”

“I do, I care about what literally everybody thinks,” Eddie responds and continues looking, eventually pulling a different short-sleeved button down out of his closet, this one black with white polka dots. “And now we’re gonna be late because I’m an insecure bitch, so sorry,” he grumbles, facing away from them to take his shirt off again.

“I’m not rushing you, babe. It’s not a big deal if we’re a little late, it just might be kinda busy,” Richie shrugs, pulling his dab pen out of his pocket. He takes a hit while Eddie is shrugging out of his shirt, and Richie’s eyes are wandering slowly over his body. “Please, take your time.”

Mike only realizes that he’s been watching Richie when he turns to him, tossing over the dab pen. Mike reaches up and catches it on reflex, and Richie nods to him in offering. He hesitates for a moment before taking a hit and tossing it back over, and Richie throws him a wink that makes Mike chuckle.

“Where are the better two-thirds?” he asks after taking a second hit, and Mike has to hold in the sigh that wants to escape his lips. He can’t quite say that he lied about needing to be alone to focus on homework so that Stan wouldn’t be here to get Eddie all anxious before his date.

“Probably doing something a lot more interesting than the paper I’m writing. They’re coming over in a bit and I told Stan I’d be done by then.”

“In that case, don’t let me be a bad influence on you,” Richie jokes, tossing the dab pen back over to Mike. And Mike hesitates, and thinks that maybe he should call Richie out on what was clearly a dig at Stan, but...he can’t help thinking it’s a little justified. He loves Stan, so much, but he _was_ needlessly hostile toward Richie, and Mike can’t blame the guy for being upset about it. So Mike takes another hit before tossing it back over.

“Honestly it might help, I’ve felt like I’ve had a mental block for the past hour. Might knock something loose in there,” he jokes, and Eddie turns back to them, throwing his hands up in the air like someone offended him.

“Well, do I look okay or not?” Eddie asks, but it sounds weirdly like an accusation, and Mike snorts a laugh out of his nose.

“You look great, Eddie. I always think you look great,” Mike admits with a laugh, which is weird, because that’s not something he would normally say. At least not phrased that way. Maybe he’s already high.

Eddie’s cheeks go pink and his grumpy stance drops immediately. “Um, thank you,” he eventually mumbles out softly, and Richie stands from Eddie’s bed to wrap him up in his arms, briefly glancing at Mike over Eddie’s head.

“You look lovely, baby doll. Adorable like always,” he assures, pressing a kiss to the top of Eddie’s head before releasing him, and Eddie looks flustered when he pulls away. “Ready?”

“Y-Yeah,” Eddie replies breathily before he pulls his shoes on by the door. “Kay, let’s go,” he says when he stands, turning toward the door.

Richie smacks Eddie on the ass and Eddie squeaks, his cheeks burning red as he turns to look up at Richie.

“Jacket,” he says firmly, nodding towards Eddie’s closet. Eddie immediately turns to grab a coat, and Mike doesn’t miss the way that he tugs on the crotch of his jeans as he does it.

Once he has his coat on, he looks up at Richie, who pulls him in to press a kiss to his forehead before ushering him out of the door.

“Bye, Mikey,” Eddie waves, still blushing so badly that he almost looks feverish, and Mike waves back, watching as Richie pulls him in closer to his side before his hand slides down Eddie’s back to rest on his ass.

“Good luck with that paper,” Richie waves with a two-finger salute before pulling the door closed behind them, leaving Mike alone in the dorm room.

“Did you- did you just spank me?” Eddie asks in a hushed voice once they’re walking down the hallway, and Richie laughs in response.

“That was a love-tap at most. Clearly you’ve never been spanked right if you think _that_ was a spank.”

Eddie doesn’t look up at him because he’s still blushing, and he tries to keep his voice firm, but it definitely wavers. “Well- well- in front of my _friends?”_

Richie is quiet for a moment, before replying, “Didn’t think it would bother you, sorry.”

Eddie panics at his tone, because he’s pretty sure he made Richie feel bad, and he honestly didn’t mean to. It’s just embarrassing, in front of other people. Eddie gets embarrassed when they’re alone, for fuck’s sake.

“It’s- it’s okay! I’m not, like, mad or anything. I’m not upset. I just- I don’t know. It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s not like I pulled your pants down and put you over my knee, Eds,” Richie jokes, and it doesn’t do anything to help Eddie’s cheeks cool off.

“I’m just not used to, like…affection,” Eddie admits softly, then feels so pathetic as soon as it comes out of his mouth. “I mean- no, that’s not what I meant, I just mean-“

“If I’m making you uncomfortable, you can tell me.”

“No! No, no, I’m not uncomfortable,” Eddie assures desperately, just as Richie opens the door to lead them outside, sending a shiver ripping through him.

“I told you it was fucking cold outside,” Richie says pointedly when he notices Eddie tuck himself further into his jacket.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“Just trying to look out for you, baby doll.”

Eddie follows him down to the street where a car is waiting that is definitely not Richie’s car, and someone that Eddie doesn’t recognize is sitting in the driver’s seat. He hesitates, stopping on the sidewalk.

“You coming chief?” Richie laughs, and Eddie glances at him, then at the car with the mystery person.

“Who- Who is that?” Eddie asks, his eyes flicking to the car warily, and he feels really stupid for being as on edge as he is. God, what is his fucking problem?

“It’s just my friend. Figured you wouldn’t want me drunk driving us home later, so he’s going to bring us and then I was gonna get an Uber back to campus.”

Eddie feels like such a fucking idiot. “Oh, duh. Right. Yeah, that makes sense.”

He still finds himself hesitating as he walks toward the car, for some reason, and tries to shake the anxiety out of his bones. Because tonight is supposed to be a fun night, and he needs to let go of all of this stupid unnecessary panic at some point. Sometime soon, he hopes. Because danger isn’t lurking around every fucking corner, and he knows that, and it’s annoying him that he feels like he’s a child again who’s terrified of everything.

_If a car looks suspicious, it is, Eddie-bear. They could snatch you right off of the sidewalk if you’re not paying attention!_

Richie opens the back passenger door and waits for Eddie to climb inside before following after him, folding his long limbs into the cramped back seat. Eddie grabs for Richie as soon as he’s finished putting his seat belt on, and Richie takes his hand and brings it to his lips, kissing the back of it before placing their joined hands into Eddie’s lap.

“Hey! It’s Eddie, right?” the driver asks as he turns to face them, and Eddie is taken aback by how handsome he is. Like, model handsome. And it must take him too long to respond, because Richie elbows him, and he snaps out of his staring.

“I- uh- yeah, yes, that’s me,” he replies dumbly, and the driver smiles, and holy shit his teeth are perfect.

“Ben. Nice to meet you, finally. I don’t think Richie has talked about literally anything else for the past three weeks.”

Richie flips him off and Eddie giggles nervously, shifting in his seat. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

“This is Bev’s shittier half,” Richie jokes, and Ben flips him off in return before turning around to start up the car and pull off.

“I mean I can’t disagree with that, but fuck you anyway.”

“Thank you so much for giving us a ride,” Eddie gushes cheerfully, and Ben laughs a smooth, rich laugh.

“Trust me, I’m doing us all a favor. Richie can barely drive when he’s sober.”

“How would you know, Benjamin? You’ve never seen me sober.”

“Fair enough.”

“So…so how long have you and Beverly been together?” Eddie asks conversationally, but also because he’s genuinely curious. They must make an absolutely stunning couple, based on what Eddie has seen of Beverly in pictures and videos.

“A long fucking time. Since we were eleven.”

“ _Eleven?”_ Eddie can’t keep the incredulous shock out of his voice, and Ben laughs again.

“Yeah, technically, I guess. I just don’t think there ever really was anyone else for either of us. We met, and everything sort of clicked, and it was like…I don’t know, we had an unspoken understanding that we were it for each other, even back then,” Ben shrugs, and Eddie is flabbergasted.

“That’s so…that’s…wow,” Eddie replies ineloquently, and takes a breath before trying again. “That’s so romantic.”

“It was not fucking romantic. It was annoying. They used to talk about getting married all the time when we were kids and I was always like ‘hey guys, let’s go to the park or the movies or something because we’re kids, stop talking about getting fucking married,’” Richie grumbles next to him.

“Well, when you love someone enough that you want to spend the rest of your life with them, you’ll want to talk about getting married all the time, too,” Ben defends, and Richie rolls his eyes with a groan.

“Thanks for the life lesson, dad.”

“Any time, sport,” Ben replies, and Eddie can’t help giggling.

“I really want to meet Bev. She sounds awesome,” Eddie chimes in, and Ben glances back at him with a smile.

“Best person I know.”

“Are you guys still going to Portland?” Richie asks suddenly, biting at his cuticles.

“Yeah, we were going to leave in the morning but Bev is freaking out about the baby so we’re gonna go tonight. We’ll probably be gone by the time you get back.”

“The baby?!” Eddie squeaks, and Richie and Ben share a bout of hysterical laughter.

“No, no, not her baby. Her cousin is having a baby, that’s why we’re going to Portland. She’s doing a home birth at Bev’s aunt’s house and Bev is worried that they’re gonna fuck it up so she wants to be there. Her cousin is one of those essential oil, anti-vaccination types, so Bev’s been pretty up her ass for the whole pregnancy. She’s been in labor all day so Bev wants to make sure we’re there when the baby finally starts crowning,” Ben explains, and Eddie feels weirdly relieved, even though he doesn’t know Beverly yet.

“I think Bev would have a brain aneurysm and die if she found out she was pregnant,” Richie laughs, and Ben nods in agreement.

“Yeah, probably. I mean, I would too, to be honest. We can barely afford to put ourselves through school and keep clothes on our own backs, definitely don’t need to be bringing a baby into that.”

“Yeah, but it would be cute. We could keep him in the hallway closet and feed him pizza crumbs. He’d have to call me Uncle Rick, though. Rick is my uncle vibe, I can feel it.”

“Your ‘uncle vibe’?” Ben asks through laughter, and Richie mocks offense.

“Yes! Your uncle vibe is gonna be Benny. Imagine a tiny me running around going ‘Uncle Benny, can we go get ice cream? Uncle Benny, wanna build Legos?’ Is that not the cutest shit you’ve ever imagined?”

“It’s the most terrifying thing I can imagine. One of you is enough, don’t be releasing tiny versions of yourself into the world, please.”

“Once I find a receptacle to host my semen until it turns into a tiny person, I’m gonna prove you so wrong.”

“That’s why I’m rooting for you to end up with a guy in the end.”

“Surrogacy is a thing.”

“Find me a woman willing to carry your child, even if she’s getting paid to.”

“Touché.”

Ben laughs, and Eddie thinks that this conversation seems sort of…mean-spirited, but Richie is laughing too, so maybe this is just how they joke with each other. Still, he feels like he should say something supportive.

“Your babies would be so cute, with those eyes of yours,” he decides to say, which is apparently the right thing, because Richie beams at him.

“You’re one to talk, Bambi. Little yous running around with those peepers would be the most spoiled children alive,” he replies softly, bringing Eddie’s hand up to kiss his knuckles, and Eddie is grinning so wide that he feels stupid, so he tucks his face into Richie’s chest to hide it.

By the time they arrive at the restaurant, Eddie already feels so cheerful and upbeat that he’s bouncing in his shoes. Which seems to be a recurring theme, considering that every time he’s with Richie, he feels so elated that he’s almost high off of it, as though simply being around the other man is enough to lift him so much that he feels ten feet tall.

And Richie is being so affectionate with him, holding his hand the whole way there and as they walk inside, and Eddie sort of forgets that other people exist until they walk into the busy restaurant.

Even then, the rest of the world sort of fades into the background as they make their way to a table. Eddie sort of forgets that they’re here to eat, so when their waitress comes over with menus, it nearly startles him.

“I mean, if you want to order, like, actual food then go for it. But $1 tacos, man. They’re so fucking good, too. Like it’s probably D quality beef, but the $3 margaritas really make it so that you don’t give a shit,” Richie explains, and Eddie remembers about the drinking part of this date, and he gets a lump in his throat.

“I trust your judgment,” he decides, and when their waitress comes back around, he asks for two soft tacos, and Richie interrupts him.

“No, no, no. They’re, like, not big tacos. You should definitely get more than that,” he argues, and Eddie is getting anxious, because ordering food at restaurants already makes him nervous without interruptions.

“Well- well I’m not very hungry.” Which is a lie, because he’s starving, but he probably shouldn’t be pigging out on tacos, let alone the amount of sugar in margaritas.

Richie rolls his eyes and addresses the waitress. “Can we just get, like, twelve? With salsa and all that shit too; just pile that shit on. Thanks,” he finishes, handing the menus back to the waitress with a polite smile.

“ _Twelve_ tacos, Rich?”

“They’re, like, baby tacos! They’re so small. Two of them basically makes up one regular sized taco,” he explains, and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Not if you’re getting toppings and stuff, too. Do you know how many calories sour cream has?”

“Who gives a shit,” he shrugs, and Eddie must make a face that says that he, in fact, gives a shit, based on how Richie softens immediately after.

“Baby, you don’t need to be counting your calories and shit. You’re fucking tiny. I could pick you up with one arm.”

“I’m on the higher end of what’s considered a normal BMI for my height. I’m trying to lose twelve pounds.”

“I have a very, very hard time believing that. What do you weigh? Like 120? 130?”

“You’re not supposed to ask people that!”

“You brought it up.”

Eddie huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “122.”

“If you lose any more weight, you’re gonna fucking float off when the wind blows too hard,” Richie jokes. Or, at least, Eddie thinks he’s joking. He looks pretty serious.

“Yeah, well, when I was in high school I weighed a hundred, so.”

The look of alarm that comes over Richie’s face is not what Eddie was expecting his reaction to be, and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“Eddie, baby. That’s…that’s _definitely_ underweight for your height.”

“I liked being cute and skinny. Then I stopped dancing and gained a bunch of weight and now my ass is the size of a watermelon and my thighs are all doughy. And I have this little, like, belly pooch that I can’t get rid of-“

“I think that’s just, you know, your fucking organs needing somewhere to go,” Richie interrupts stiffly, and Eddie snaps his mouth shut. “There’s nothing wrong with your body. Your body is perfect.”

And just like that, his mouth is open again. “Yeah, okay, sure. Sure it is. Tell that to my fucking love handles and the dimples on my ass.”

“I’m gonna go get us drinks, because I can’t listen to this anymore,” Richie tells him tightly, standing up from the table to go over to the bar. And Eddie feels his throat go dry. That was fucking stupid. Why does he fucking open his mouth and talk and say words.

When Richie comes back, Eddie is sort of grateful for the alcohol, considering that he’s already made things uncomfortable. So he starts drinking it immediately, hoping some social lubricant will remind him how to be a normal person who doesn’t make everyone around him horribly uncomfortable all the time.

Besides, having some drinks is different than getting drunk. He doesn’t have to be drunk. So what’s there to be worried about?

“So- so since you’re buying drinks am I paying for the tacos? Or do you want me to just pay you back half even? Or-“

“We’re not going Dutch,” Richie laughs.

“No, it’s cool, I brought cash, so-“

“Which you’re also gonna bring home with you, because we’re not splitting the bill.”

“Richard.”

“Edward.”

“Let me at least get the Uber back to-“

“No.”

“Richie!”

“No. No, no, no. No. This is the first almost proper date I’m taking you on, I’m definitely not letting you pay,” Richie insists, and Eddie wants to keep arguing, but the waitress comes back with their food, so he puts a pin in it for later.

“Gonna go get us another round; if you haven’t eaten at least one taco by the time I get back, we’re fighting in the parking lot,” Richie tells him firmly before going back over to the bar.

And over the course of the night, Eddie discovers that tequila makes him _very_ talkative. And apparently very hungry, because he ends up eating five of their twelve tacos. And he really, really doesn’t mean to get drunk, but how was he supposed to know that it only takes a couple of margaritas to get him tipsy?

“And- and I never really, like, had a moment where I was like ‘holy shit, I’m gay,’ you know? I was just, like, so gay my whole life that realizing it just kinda felt like gears shifting into place, kinda? And it was, like, scary obviously, ‘cos of where I grew up, and my mom. But it also kinda felt really nice, ‘cos I finally figured out this thing that had been bothering me my whole life, and it felt really- it felt really good, you know?” Eddie is rambling, and Richie looks absolutely delighted, watching him eat his last taco as he goes on.

“And it was, like, weird. Because I knew my mom was gonna be mad, since she’s so religious. I knew she was gonna be mad at me. But I didn’t think she was gonna be _so_ mad. Which really sucked.”

“So she just bugged out when you came out to her?”

Eddie sighs, cupping his chin in his hand. “I am nowhere near drunk enough to tell that story.”

“Soo another margarita, then?”

“No, I wanna go to your apartment,” Eddie admits, which is weird, because he doesn’t remember really thinking about it before it comes out of his mouth. But it’s definitely true. He wants to go to Richie’s apartment.

“Yeah? What brought this about?” Richie asks in amusement, and Eddie gives an exaggerated shrug.

“I wanna see where you live! You’ve seen where I live,” he insists, though through the fog in his drunk brain, a voice is yelling _that’s not why you want to go home with him!_

“I donno Eddie, I don’t really want to invite you over just to get bitched at all night for having dishes in my sink and dirty clothes on my floor.”

“Please! Come on, I won’t even bitch- well, I might. But I can help you clean!”

Richie barks out a laugh, and Eddie crosses his arms over his chest, trying to look stern. “Let me come over.”

“You really want to come over that bad?” Richie asks, with an eyebrow raised at Eddie in amusement.

“Yes.”

Richie sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes up at the ceiling. “Fine. No complaining once we get there, though. You asked for it.”

“Deal!”

By the time they’re in the Uber on their way back to Richie’s apartment, Eddie has had enough time to start getting nervous. He gets nervous being alone with Richie in general, mostly just because he really wants to impress the other man all the time, and he seems to always say or do something stupid to make a fool of himself. But this feels like a different kind of nervous, and he doesn’t know why until they’re walking up the stairwell and down the hallway to his front door, when Eddie realizes that it’s because he wants something to happen.

Like, really wants something to happen. And once he realizes that, it devolves into panic, because he should _absolutely not_ be thinking that way, given that he still has fucking bruises healing from when he- from Halloween. And he feels _disgusted_ with himself, for a moment, until Richie opens the door and guides Eddie inside by the waist.

And then it’s all he can think about. They’re in Richie’s apartment, alone. No one to interrupt or be judgmental. Nobody will even _know_ unless he wants them to. Nobody he cares about knows about what happened to him anyway, so it’s okay if he wants to have sex, right? Because nobody will think something’s wrong with him if he does, except for himself. And he can deal with that. He can deal with the guilt and shame of still being so...so… _desirous_ , and so attracted to Richie, and wanting to touch him and be underneath him in his bed.

His apartment isn’t even as bad as Eddie was anticipating, based on what Richie had said. It’s a little messy, there’s definitely quite a bit of clutter. But it’s not _dirty,_ and Eddie says so, and Richie seems amused.

“I’m shocked to hear it, honestly, Mr. ‘I Make My Bed Every Day,’” he jokes as he shows Eddie around, stopping to show him his room.

“If you don’t, your blankets get all wrinkled!”

“Oh no, wrinkled sheets? What will Joanna Gaines think when she comes over for tea tomorrow?”

“The fact that you know who she is by name is the gayest thing about you,” Eddie giggles, observing the various drawings littering Richie’s walls, trying to decipher which ones he drew himself.

“ _That’s_ the gayest thing about me? Not the fact that we just went on a date, or that we’ve been on 3 now, or how badly I want to dive between your legs? All that is tame; it’s occasionally watching HGTV that makes me a real flaming cocksucker,” Richie jokes through laughter, and Eddie is doubled over, and he honestly doesn’t remember a time in his life where he’s felt happier than he does with Richie, laughing like this.

They eventually make their way back to the living room and Richie goes to the kitchen to grab drinks, and Eddie sort of wants to say no, because he’s just drunk enough that he’s really having _fun._ And he doesn’t want to get _so_ drunk. Doesn’t want to get _that_ drunk.

But he doesn’t, and Richie brings in rum and cokes that are _very_ stiff. And Eddie is going to ask if they can turn the TV on or something when Richie turns on these big speakers next to the TV and Eddie smacks him from where they’re sitting on the couch together.

“What?”

“It is _so_ late at night! Don’t play music, your neighbors will get pissed!”

“I don’t really give a shit if they get pissed, they all suck anyway. One of them has a dog that he isn’t even supposed to fucking have, and she barks constantly, and when I asked if I could pet her, that asshole said no! So fuck him and all my other neighbors by proxy,” Richie states, playing music on the speakers through his phone.

And it’s not very loud, so Eddie doesn’t bitch again. Instead, he uses some of the liquid confidence he has flowing through him to stretch his legs across Richie’s lap, and he privately celebrates when Richie automatically rests his hands on Eddie’s legs, rubbing along his calves and the insides of his knees.

And they just sit there for so long, just talking and drinking, just laughing and joking, and Eddie is absolutely sure that he’s in heaven. Or at the very least, he’s in a coma, and this is what his brain has created as the ideal reality to protect him from whatever horrible circumstances exist outside of this little bubble of happiness. And he is very, very okay with that.

“It’s getting pretty late, baby doll. Do you wanna think about heading home soon? I’ll walk you,” Richie eventually says, and Eddie’s heart sinks into the floor.

“No!” he nearly yells, then cringes before speaking again. “No, no, please. I don’t want to go home yet. Can I just stay here?”

“Like...like you want to sleep here?” Richie asks, sounding hesitant. And Eddie wants to fucking disappear, because he’s being clingy, because he’s being fucking too much and he shouldn’t have asked something like that.

“N-No, no, never mind. Sorry, I’ll go,” he says quickly, moving to get up from the couch, but Richie’s grip on his legs tightens, and Eddie stops.

“No, don’t leave,” Richie says firmly, brushing over Eddie’s legs before speaking again. “You can stay. I want you to stay.”

“Promise?” Eddie asks before he can stop himself, and Richie smiles softly at him.

“Of course.”

Eddie tries to contain the giddy smile that’s fighting its way across his lips but he ultimately fails, conceding to fall back against the couch and cover his face with his hands in embarrassment.

“I sort of want to change, though, if we’re officially having a sleepover.”

“I don’t have any other clothes,” Eddie says dumbly, because _obviously,_ and Richie just laughs.

“I can lend you something,” he replies, tapping Eddie’s leg and encouraging him to stand before leading him to his bedroom.

Eddie’s legs feel a little wobbly the whole way there, and he isn’t sure why. He’s sure it has something to do with the alcohol, but he isn’t sure why he’s shaking so badly. Maybe he’s more nervous than he thought.

He watches as Richie pulls his sweater over his head and tosses it onto his bed, leaving a plain black t shirt underneath. He pulls his jeans down his legs before grabbing sweatpants from his dresser to pull on, and Eddie realizes that he’s been creepily staring this whole time when Richie turns around and makes eye contact with him.

“I definitely don’t have anything that’s gonna fit your tiny ass, so would you rather swim in one of my sweatshirts, or a t shirt, or-”

“No, this is good,” Eddie says quickly, snatching Richie’s sweater from its place on the bed. Richie watches him in amusement and Eddie can feel himself blushing, so he occupies himself with unbuttoning his shirt to avoid Richie’s gaze. Once he shrugs out of his shirt, he tucks himself into Richie’s sweater, and the warm, fuzzy sensation that settles in his brain when he feels the soft material against his skin and smells Richie all around him makes him feel lightheaded. He wants to tuck himself deeper into it and take a big whiff and just revel in it, but that would probably be creepy, so he just takes his pants off instead.

And, honestly, the sweater is so long on him that it nearly meets the hem of his briefs anyway, so he doesn’t really _need_ pants. And god, he’s being a fucking ho.

“Kay, I’m good,” he says when he’s done, pulling the too-long sleeves up to his elbows, only to have them start sliding back down immediately.

“That’s all you want?” Richie asks, and Eddie tries to ignore the amused smirk on his face when he asks it.

“Yes.”

“Whatever makes you happy, baby doll.”

Eddie kind of wants to suggest that they go to bed now, and just lie down in Richie’s bed, and cuddle, and.. and…

But Richie is already going back out into the living room, so Eddie follows, taking deep breaths to try to get a handle on himself again. What is going on with him? He’s not usually this...worked up.

But man, is he fucking worked up. And everything Richie does stokes the fire Eddie has flickering around in his belly, especially the way he’s still touching Eddie all over his legs, and it’s just so much worse now that his legs are bare, and he can feel Richie’s warm hands directly against his skin.

Being drunk also isn’t helping, because he’s finding it harder and harder to talk himself out of just ripping Richie’s pants off and sitting on his dick the more he drinks. Which would be a bad idea. But he has so much energy stored up that he needs to do something with, so he eventually stands from the couch, dragging Richie with him

“Dance with me,” he asks, but it comes out a little more slurred than he thought it would, since he doesn’t feel _that_ drunk. Sort of.

“Baby, I don’t dance,” Richie laughs, but he stands up anyway and allows Eddie to fall into his arms.

“I know, all you did at the party was rub your dick on my butt,” Eddie grumbles, and he doesn’t really mean to say it out loud, but Richie laughs, so he doesn’t sweat it.

“I mean, can you blame me? Dancing is hard enough without all of the blood rushing to my dick from looking at you,” he jokes, and Eddie rolls his eyes, stumbling over his own feet a little.

“Dancing is _not_ hard.”

“Says the dancer.”

“Not a dancer anymore,” Eddie insists, hugging around Richie’s middle to start swaying their bodies together.

“Why is that, by the way? You never said. And personally I think it’s a crime to deprive the world of any opportunity to see you in tights.”

“Mom- my mom,” he mumbles out before thinking, but he stops himself before he says too much, because they’re having a nice night, and he doesn’t want to ruin that. “What the fuck is this emo ass song?” he bitches instead, leaning over the coffee table to pick up Richie’s phone. He holds it up to him and Richie unlocks it, and Eddie immediately starts prowling his Spotify. “You have shit taste in music.”

“I have excellent taste in music, dick,” Richie laughs, and Eddie scoffs.

“Ehh.”

“Sorry I don’t only listen to electro pop and Troye Sivan,” Richie criticizes, and Eddie glares up at him.

“Better than fucking The Smiths and... and… is this fucking _My Chemical Romance?_ First of all, is it fucking 2009? And second, what the fuck even is your music taste?”

“Hey, I’ve got to have eclectic taste, I’m a radio DJ. Gotta appeal to everyone.”

“Pretty sure nobody un-ironically wants to listen to fucking Smashmouth or Erasure, but go off,” Eddie grumbles, deciding to just look something up instead of continuing to trudge through the shit show that is Richie’s music catalog.

Once the music starts playing through the speakers, Eddie puts Richie’s phone back on the table and latches back onto his middle.

“Oh, is this more electro pop? I’m shocked.”

“Shut the fuck up. It’s Oh Wonder, and they’re amazing, and you should shut the fuck up and listen to this song.”

Eddie kind of expects Richie to make another joke, but he doesn’t. He just hugs Eddie tighter to his chest and allows Eddie to sway their bodies together, and it’s not really dancing, but it’s nice. And Eddie tucks his face into Richie’s chest, and he suddenly has the realization that he feels _safe,_ and that’s weird, because it’s a feeling he’s felt so little that it’s almost difficult to recognize it. But he does. He feels safe.

“This is pretty. I like it,” Richie eventually says softly, and Eddie wants to smile up at him smugly, or make a snarky comment, but he doesn’t. He just hums softly and hugs him tighter, melting against his chest when Richie brings a hand up to pet through his hair.

“So...is dancing just hugging while you sort of sway back and forth?” he asks once the song ends, and Eddie groans into his chest.

“How come every time there’s a nice moment, you have to say words?”

“It’s hard to turn my mouth off when I don’t have something else occupying it,” he replies with a waggle of his eyebrows, and Eddie rolls his eyes and bumps Richie with his hip.

“Then go smoke another cigarette, you fucking chimney.”

“You know, they say that quitting is easier if you replace smoking with another oral fixation, so if you really cared about my health-”

“You’re such a fucking pervert,” Eddie scolds, but he’s getting an excited nervous jitter in his fingers at this conversation.

“I was going to say ‘if you really cared about my health, you’d let me kiss you right now,’ so I think that _you’re_ the pervert in this situation,” Richie teases, and Eddie doesn’t even take the time to be embarrassed before he’s pushing Richie backwards toward the couch.

And it must take him by surprise, because he makes a startled sound as his knees hit the cushion. Eddie doesn’t really register it before he shoves Richie down and climbs into his lap, already breathing heavier.

“Kiss me, please kiss me,” he begs once he’s straddling Richie’s lap, and Richie’s eyes are wide as he presumably tries to grasp this sudden turn of events.

“Jesus, baby,” he chuckles as Eddie wraps his arms around his neck, and Richie is giving him that same amused smirk that he was earlier, but Eddie can’t bring himself to be mad or bitch at him for it.

“Please kiss me,” he repeats, getting impatient now, and he startles when Richie pinches him gently on the thigh.

“Relax,” he orders firmly, and Eddie immediately halts his movements, going still in his lap.

He looks Eddie over carefully before grabbing him around the waist and dragging him in closer, so close that Eddie is pretty sure he’s sitting on Richie’s cock, but he doesn’t have enough time to panic about it before Richie is pressing their lips together.

And Eddie’s hands immediately wrap into his hair, so apparently that’s just something he likes to do when he’s drunk. Which is fine, because Richie likes it, based off of how heavily he’s breathing against Eddie’s lips. And he’s gripping Eddie’s thighs, and then he starts moving his hands back, and Eddie becomes very aware of the small moans and whines that he’s releasing into Richie’s mouth as he starts kneading his fingers into his ass.

And really, the kiss is more of a sloppy, wet sliding of tongues than anything, which is definitely making Eddie hard in his underwear. Which would be fine if he was still wearing pants, but he’s not. And it would be fine that Richie is hard, too, if Eddie wasn’t sitting directly on top of where his cock is trapped in his pants, and he really, really can’t help grinding his hips down into it.

And Richie likes that, too, based on the low groan that he lets out, and the way that he starts pulling Eddie down harder into his lap. And honestly, Eddie almost ignores his phone when it starts to ring so loudly that it startles him. Almost, but then he remembers that it’s late, and it’s a Tuesday, and his friends still think that he’s supposed to be coming home.

So he pulls away to answer it. Or at least he tries to, but Richie makes a disapproving noise in the back of his throat before tightening his grip, and Eddie wants so badly to just say fuck it, fuck it, _fuck it,_ but they’re probably worried. And he promised he wouldn’t do this again, so he grabs Richie’s fingers around his hips and pries them away, and Richie lets out a sigh, dropping his head against the back of the couch as Eddie climbs off of him and onto the floor.

“Let me guess, it’s Papa Stanley calling to ask if you’re dead in a sewer somewhere?” Richie asks sarcastically, and Eddie feels _bad._

“No, it’s Mike.”

“Even better,” Richie huffs, and he sounds annoyed, and Eddie wants to ask what he means by that, but he’s afraid he’ll miss Mike’s call so he answers the phone instead.

“Hello?” he tries to say casually into the phone, but he’s definitely still catching his breath, and he’s definitely adjusting his dick in his underwear.

“Hey, Eddie. Was just wondering what time you were planning on getting home?” Mike asks cheerfully, and Eddie is sure that Stan asked Mike to call, based on how silent it is in the background. Because it’s never silent in the background when Stan and Bill are with him, which Eddie knows they are, so Mike probably has him on speaker.

“Hey! Mikey, I’m so sorry, I didn’t- didn’t realize it was so late. I’m still with Richie,” Eddie tries to say casually, but he’s definitely slurring over some of his words. He gets distracted for a moment by Richie standing up from the couch, and he wants to ask where he’s going, but he just watches as Richie walks down the hallway and into his room.

“Eddie?”

“Huh?”

“Are you drunk?”

“Um...a little bit, yes,” Eddie offers defensively, because he isn’t a fucking child, and he’s allowed to fucking drink if he wants to, and he doesn’t understand why it’s such a big fucking deal.

“So do you want me to come pick you up? I can come grab you in Stan’s car, you probably shouldn’t be walking by yourself at this time of night if you’ve been drinking,” Mike offers, and Eddie feels like an asshole, because that’s actually a good point.

“Um...no thank you. I don’t need a ride home.”

“I really don’t mind, Eddie. I’d rather drive you than have you walk home in the cold this late.”

“Uh… no, it’s okay. Because, um… I’m gonna just. Stay here. For tonight. So it’s okay, I’m all good,” Eddie manages to get out awkwardly, and it’s silent on the other end for a minute, and he can hear what sounds like Mike covering the mic of the phone with his hand.

“Okay, have fun. Be safe, see you tomorrow,” Mike eventually says, and Eddie is honestly surprised, but pleased.

“Yeah, definitely! I’ll probably miss breakfast, but I’ll meet you guys for lunch, okay?”

“Sure thing, see you then.”

“See you.”

He hangs up the phone and feels really _proud_ of himself for handling that situation so firmly. Well, not that Mike really pushed him for information like Stan would have (and probably asked him to), but Eddie was honest and firm in his answer, and that’s something to be proud of, he thinks.

He’s just about to stand to go find Richie when he re-emerges from his room, carrying a hand mirror and something else in his hands that Eddie can’t quite make out.

“I’m sorry,” he says immediately, as soon as Richie plops back down onto the couch, pulling the coffee table closer to him.

“What did he want?”

“Just to know where I am, I didn’t tell them I wasn’t coming home.”

“Well, you’re a grown man, you shouldn’t have to,” Richie argues, and then he’s pulling something out of a baggy, which ends up being a second baggy, then a third, and Eddie only realizes that what’s in the last baggy is cocaine when Richie is pouring it out onto the mirror.

“Coke?” he asks, and he’s a little bit ashamed of how excited his voice sounds when he asks it, but whatever. He doesn’t do drugs. He’s allowed to do drugs sometimes.

“Calm down, Charlie Sheen; I can hear you grinding your teeth,” Richie laughs, and Eddie doesn’t quip back because he’s too focused watching Richie work to break up the little white clusters into powder with a razor blade.

“Why is it all lumpy?”

“Because it’s good quality shit. If you get coke that’s, like, all powdery already when you first get it, it’s probably got laundry detergent or some shit in it.”

_“Laundry detergent?”_

“Yeah, which is another great reason why you shouldn’t just take coke from random people. It could have fentanyl in it or something.”

“Fentanyl?”

“You could die,” Richie says simply, which isn’t really an answer, but it’s definitely enough of one that Eddie feels panic at the base of his neck.

“Well- well how do _you_ know that the stuff you have doesn’t have fentanyl or laundry detergent or something in it?”

“Because I know what I’m doing.”

And Eddie sort of wants to argue, but he knows nothing about drugs, so he doesn’t push it. Because nothing bad happened the last time Richie gave him coke, so he has no reason not to trust him. And it sort of scares him, how excited he gets when Richie hands him something that looks like a cut piece from a straw. And it kind of makes him feel weirdly ashamed, how quickly he gets up onto his knees to shuffle over to the mirror.

“The baby lines are for you. Start with one,” Richie orders, and Eddie pouts up at him from where he’s kneeling on the floor. “Don’t look at me like that, party monster. You can have more later if you want, but start with this for now.”

Eddie doesn’t argue and snorts one of the smaller lines, and he closes his eyes so that he doesn’t have to look at them in the mirror.

And the head high comes a lot faster than he remembers it happening the night of the party, and his heart is already beating faster, and he wants to fucking run around naked.

He’s giggling, and he doesn’t really realize that he’s giggling until Richie ruffles his hair before plucking the straw from his fingers. And Eddie watches as Richie snorts two lines himself before putting the mirror out of the way of danger.

“How come people do it on a mirror? I thought that was just in movies.”

“So you can see where all the coke is. Depending on how good it is, it’s, like, $120 a gram. Don’t wanna waste it.”

_“$120?!”_

“Yeah, there’s a reason it’s a rich kid party drug,” Richie laughs, and Eddie doesn’t really get what’s funny, because that’s an insane amount of money to spend on getting high.

“How the fuck do you afford that?!”

“You caught me, I’m secretly a pimp. We operate out of the radio station, come by after hours for a blowie.”

“No, seriously!”

“I’ve got good hook ups,” Richie shrugs, and Eddie doesn’t really know what that _means,_ but whatever. Whatever. If Richie wants to spend his money on cocaine, that’s his choice. If he wants to share with Eddie, that’s also his choice, so Eddie isn’t going to question it.

Eddie realizes that he’s tapping his nails on the floor and wiggling his feet and fidgeting when he gets the urge to just _not be still_ all of a sudden, and he nearly shoots up from the floor, which has Richie laughing.

“It’s weird being high and not at a party, I feel like I don’t know what to do with all this energy,” Eddie expresses, bouncing in his sock feet.

“I usually do coke before I clean and stuff. It’s honestly, like, the only way I can get the motivation to do the dishes ever,” Richie laughs, and Eddie looks around his apartment.

“So are you saying you want to do chores?”

“No! What?” Richie laughs loudly, dropping his head to the back of the couch. “What the fuck kind of date would that be? ‘Wanna come to my apartment? I’ll get you high so you can be my coked-out maid for the night.’”

“I like cleaning,” Eddie pouts, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m sure you do, you tiny little freak. I will say I definitely wouldn’t mind seeing you dressed up in a little maid’s outfit, prancing around with a duster.”

“Fuck off.”

“You’d have to call me master, though.”

“You fucking wish,” Eddie tries to scoff, but it comes out shakier than he intends for it to, and Richie lets out a chuckle that has him blushing across his cheeks. “Fine, then what do you do when you’re on coke other than the fucking dishes?”

“Fuck.”

“Fuck?”

“Yeah. Fucking on coke is, like, the best. Animalistic. Honestly I like it better than fucking on MDMA,” Richie states, and Eddie feels stricken with a reality that he’s more or less been able to successfully deny for days now. “My dick never stays hard when I try to fuck on molly, so I generally avoid it. But getting fucked on molly seems like it’s pretty great, based on what I’ve witnessed,” he continues with a wink, and Eddie really doesn’t want to talk about this anymore, and sort of wants to be outside of his body, so he reaches for the mirror.

“Take it easy; it’s only been, like, ten minutes,” Richie warns, and Eddie waves him off before snorting another one of the smaller lines, and yeah, _yeah,_ that’s helping. “Jesus Christ, I created a monster, didn’t I?”

“Beware; for I am fearless, and therefore powerful,” Eddie jokes, and Richie laughs, and _god,_ he just wants to fucking tackle him to the fucking ground and wrestle or something to get this energy out of him.

“Wow, look at you. I thought you didn’t know anything about theater, but you’re over here firing off quotes like a thespian.”

“You know that _Frankenstein_ was a book _before_ it was a play, right?”

“Ugh, fuck that. Reading is gay.”

“Isn’t acting, like, 98% remembering lines, which is basically just reading?”

“Yeah but acting is an _art._ Reading just to read is torture.”

“Writing is an art, so reading is also kind of an art.”

“For someone who said he’s not an artist, you sure have a lot of opinions about what art is,” Richie jokes, and Eddie huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I was a dancer! Dancing is art!”

“I know that, baby doll. _You’re_ the one who said you’re a terrible artist. Which I still find hard to believe, based on how I’ve seen you move. Watching you dance when you were just shaking your ass was nearly a masterpiece. I can’t imagine how beautiful it must have been to watch you dance, like, _Swan Lake_ or something.”

“Nobody goes to see _Swan Lake_ for the male dancers. Nobody ever really cares about the male dancer in a pas de deux.”

“Not true, I went to go see _Sleeping Beauty_ once when I was a kid and I was definitely, _definitely_ interested in the male dancers.”

“Well you’re an insufferable queer, so your opinion doesn’t count.”

“You just like to argue when you’re on coke, huh?” Richie laughs, and Eddie scoffs defensively, stomping his foot on the ground.

“Whatever!”

“Alright Judy Moody, why don’t you convert some of that angry boy energy into something productive and teach me some shit about dance?”

“Like- Like what?”

“I don’t know, whatever you want. I don’t know anything about it.”

And Eddie wants to say no, but honestly, this is a good opportunity to show off how flexible he is without seeming like a ho. Well, he might seem _kind of_ like a ho, but he’s so far past caring at this point that it doesn’t matter.

So he sort of explains what _plie_ and _tendu_ and _glissade_ and all that shit means, and he shows Richie the five positions, but mostly he kind of just uses the moment to shamelessly flaunt the fact that he can still do a vertical split, because he fucking can, and honestly, he wants Richie to look at him. Which is not how he normally feels. But he feels like he could wrestle a bear right now, so having a cute boy stare at him while he spins around and puts his feet above his head feels like no big deal at all in comparison.

He eventually ends in a straddle split, which sort of hurts, since it’s been a little bit since he’s done one. But once he’s down, he looks up at Richie for approval, and he looks more bewildered than anything.

“You look confused,” Eddie giggles, and Richie rubs a hand down his face, and Eddie snorts out a laugh.

“I’m just...I didn’t expect all that. It’s honestly not even, like, that it’s hot. Which it is, by the way. I just didn’t realize you could _do_ that. I can barely touch my fucking toes without crying. Like, doing that doesn’t fucking destroy your balls?” he asks, gesturing vaguely at Eddie’s legs, which are still on either side of him.

He shrugs. “Not really. I mean I learned how to do a split when I was really young so having balls was kind of a non-issue,” he explains, before rolling out of his split to sit cross-legged on the floor. He reaches for the mirror again and Richie doesn’t stop him, so honestly, he takes that as a go ahead to snort one of the big boy lines. And then he figures, hey, he’s pretty much got the hang of this by now. So he does another. And after he does, he lies down flat on the ground to wait for the high to hit.

“So that brings me back to the question of why you stopped dancing. I mean, fuck. If you’ve been doing it for so long and you obviously have some sort of talent, then why the fuck would you stop?”

And Eddie doesn’t really want to respond, but he’s starting to get that hot, fuzzy, vibratey feeling in his head, and honestly, who fucking cares. Who cares if Richie knows? Who cares if fucking everyone knows?

“Because I got really hurt,” he laughs, and he’s a little dizzy, so he stays on the ground and waits for it to pass.

“Hurt how?”

“Well,” he begins, slapping the floor underneath him with an open palm, “When I was but a wee boy of fifteen, I really liked this boy at school. And for a long time, I thought he was straight, so I didn’t think I had a chance, obviously. But then he asked if he could come over my house after school one day, and I was obviously like, ‘fuck yes you can.’ So we’re just hanging out and stuff, and he _kissed_ me, and he asked me out on a date. And I, like, entered an alternate reality or something, I was so happy,” Eddie pauses to get himself into an upright position, and Richie looks very focused on their conversation, so he forces himself to stay focused too and continues.

“And I guess that in whatever dimension I thought I entered, I also thought my mom would be, like, disapproving but still...still want to be my _mom,_ you know? So I decided I was gonna come out to her, and that was- that was- to be real, that was one of the worst decisions I’ve ever made in my whole _life,_ Richie,” he goes on, and he’s laughing, and he’s not sure why. But Richie isn’t laughing.

“She screamed at me. And, like, she screamed a lot, but never like that. And she dragged me outside and made me get in her car, because she said I had to go see Father Walton, since I was clearly having some sort of fit or something. And I knew I shouldn’t have gotten in the car with her, but what the fuck else was I supposed to do? I was fifteen. She was so worked up the whole way there, just, like, sobbing into her steering wheel. And eventually she just kind of...I don’t know, I guess she shut down or something, because we ended up wrapped around a tree,” he shrugs, reaching for his drink to take a sip before continuing. His throat feels so dry.

“I don’t know, I don’t really remember that part all that well. I don’t remember a lot after getting in the car, honestly, until the doctor was explaining that literally every bone in my arm had shattered in the crash. How fucking unlucky is that? _Every bone._ So that sucked. And obviously I couldn’t really keep dancing after that. I mean I tried, but it took over a year for my arm to heal, and I never got enough strength back to be able to do partner dancing or anything like that, even with physical therapy. So I had to quit,” he sighs, picking at a blemish on his leg before he pulls his knees up to his chest, and he starts laughing again, and god, maybe this is a funny story.

“And- and- honestly, you know what the best part of all of it was? When I told my mom I was quitting, she goes 'Good. You’ve been getting fat anyway.’ Which is so _ridiculous,_ because _she’s_ fat; she’s, like, _so fat._ She says she has an inactive thyroid or something but honestly, she just does nothing but eat and watch daytime television. She’s a horrible, horrible trash person,” he’s starting to feel lightheaded, and god, why is his heart beating so fast?

“She told me- when I started applying for college, she told me she wasn’t gonna help me with anything. She said she wouldn’t even, like, cooperate with me. So I decided to get- get emancipated, because she kicked me out. And she signed off on all the paperwork because she said she didn't want to be responsible for me anymore. And the last time I ever saw her, she said ‘I didn’t spend seven years and six figures trying to get pregnant for my son to be a faggot,’” he finishes, and he’s laughing so hard that he’s crying with his face tucked into his knees, and his chest is nearly heaving, and his heart is beating _so fast_.

“Eddie...Eddie, baby, hey. Eddie,” he can hear Richie’s voice trying to get his attention, but honestly, he doesn’t want to respond because he’s using all of his energy to try to will his heart to slow down before it rocks itself right out of his chest.

He’s startled when he feels Richie’s hands rubbing over his back, and he’s still crying when he looks up at him, and god, he looks so _worried._ Which isn’t a look Eddie wants to see on Richie, because he’s so easy-going. He’s so laid back. He shouldn’t be worried, especially about Eddie. So he tries to speak, to say he’s okay, but he can’t stop gasping, and it’s starting to feel scary, whatever this feeling is.

“Eddie, sweetheart, you gotta tell me how you’re feeling,” he insists, and Eddie’s breath still feels strangled in his throat.

“Hot,” he manages to get out, and he wants to lie back down on the ground, but Richie lifts him up in his arms before he has the opportunity to.

“You’re okay, baby doll. Just talk to me, okay? Tell me how you’re feeling,” Richie’s voice sounds sort of far away, but it’s calm and steady, so Eddie holds onto it like an anchor to stop himself from floating off into this feeling, which is getting worse and worse.

“I feel- I feel weird. I don’t feel good. I feel sick, I don’t feel good,” Eddie manages to mumble out, and he only realizes that his eyes are closed when he’s placed on something soft, and he opens them to find himself in Richie’s bed.

“Okay, you’re okay, baby. It’s gonna be okay,” Richie is murmuring softly, and he has his fingers pressed into Eddie’s wrist, and he’s counting softly to himself. And Eddie tries to slow his heart rate down through sheer will, but honestly, his brain just feels like it’s amping up up up, and he can’t think about anything other than how horrible this feels.

It feels like his asthma attacks used to when he was a kid, but times a million. He feels so fucking anxious that he’s worried his heart is going to pop, which makes him more anxious, because can you have a heart attack from panicking?

Because that’s what this is, right? He’s having a really, really bad panic attack. Because he shouldn’t have told that story about his mom, that was dumb, because now he’s probably going to die here, trembling on Richie’s bed until his heart gives out in a puddle of his own sweat.

“Richie, I’m scared,” he manages to gasp out between his rapid breaths, and he feels Richie start to pull his sweater off. And that makes it worse, because he can’t move again, he can’t control his body again, and it’s so much scarier than it was the first time. And it makes him start panicking more, and he tries to reach up to stop him but his muscles feel so weak and shaky, and he’s crying again as Richie pulls it up over his head.

“No, no, please.”

“I have to, Eddie. You’re gonna overheat, okay? I’m sorry, baby.”

“I’m so scared, Richie. I’m gonna die.”

“I’m right here, Eddie. You’re not going to die, baby. You’ll be okay, I promise. I promise. You have to just ride it out,” he encourages, petting a hand through Eddie’s hair while he holds one of his hands in his. And yeah, that makes sense. He remembers a school counselor saying that to him, once. _Sometimes when you’re having a panic attack, you gotta just ride it out until it passes._

It seemed like terrible advice at the time, but that’s what Richie is saying too, so maybe that’s true. And he tries really, really hard to just let it happen, but it’s not getting any better, and he’s still so hot, and he’s shaking so bad that his teeth are clacking together.

“Richie, help me,” he hears himself sob, and he feels sort of bad for a second, because there’s nothing Richie can do; he did this to himself. But he’s glad that he said it when he feels Richie climb onto the bed with him and wrap him up in his arms, and that makes it a little easier to ground himself, at least. Because he’s here, he’s alive. He’s in Richie’s bed and Richie is taking care of him. He’s gonna be okay, Richie said so.

“Baby, hey, can you hear me?”

“Y-Yes.”

“I’m gonna talk to you, okay? And I want you to just focus on that, okay Eddie? Just focus on my voice, and try not to focus on how you’re feeling, alright? I know you’re scared baby doll, I promise it’s gonna be okay. Just listen to my voice,” Richie urges, and Eddie wants to respond with words but he can’t get them to come out anymore, so he nods the best he can.

And Richie starts talking, at first, but it all sort of starts to slur and blur together into nonsense, and Eddie can’t decipher what he’s saying anymore. And Richie must notice, because he taps Eddie on the cheek to get him to open up his eyes, and it’s hard to focus, but he manages to sort of look at Richie enough to make out his pale skin and his dark hair.

“You gotta stay with me, baby. I know it’s hard to talk but you gotta stay with it,” he urges, and Eddie can’t respond this time, so Richie just keeps talking, and then he starts singing. And that’s easier to focus on, so Eddie listens as best he can, and when he feels himself zoning out again and floating away, he smacks himself on the leg to stay focused.

He’s not sure how long they lie there like that, with Richie softly speaking and singing to him and rubbing up and down his back with his fingers, but eventually he stops feeling so horribly elevated and anxious, and he starts to feel sort of...empty. Exhausted, almost. And he wants so badly to go to sleep, and Richie holding him and speaking to him in his soft voice is making it impossible to resist the urge, so he closes his eyes.

He starts crying again when Richie forces him into a sitting position, because he just wants to be asleep now. He just wants to sleep and forget what that felt like, because he never wants to think about how it felt ever again. He just wants to sleep. But Richie is gently shaking him, trying to get him to sit up on his own, and Eddie wants to scream.

“Stop! Stop, just let me go to sleep, please,” he cries softly, and Richie is hushing him, holding him against his chest so tight and petting through his hair.

“You can’t go to sleep yet, Eddie. You gotta stay awake for a while.”

“No! Why? Just let me go to sleep!”

“You have to drink some water, baby. You gotta eat something.”

“Not hungry.”

“You gotta,” Richie insists, hooking his arm under Eddie’s knees to pick him up.

And honestly, whatever. He doesn’t have the energy to argue back anymore. So he lets Richie carry him into the bathroom and place him down in the tub.

“Can you work the water and stuff while I go get you something to eat?”

Eddie just nods, and Richie pulls the curtain closed and disappears. And Eddie really, really doesn’t want to, but he forces himself to pull his underwear down his legs and tosses them out of the tub before turning the water on.

And it’s really cold at first, but honestly, it feels good against his skin. So he lets the water just run over him until it starts getting warmer, and then he actually makes an effort to wash the sweat off of his skin and out of his hair, but he still can’t bring himself to stand. He’s moving so slowly that it’s frustrating, but he can’t deny that the shower is helping, and he feels nearly lucid again by the time Richie comes back into the bathroom.

“You feeling any better?” he asks gently, presumably sitting on the ground right in front of the tub, based on how close he sounds.

“Yeah, just...just shitty. I’m so, so sorry,” Eddie croaks out, and he’s sort of just sitting under the water now that he’s finished because he can’t will himself to get up.

“I’m not, like, mad at you babe. But you did way too much coke, Eddie.”

“I didn’t think it was that much.”

“I didn’t realize you were snorting the lines that I cut for me. I have a way higher tolerance than you do, babe. That was a bad idea.”

The realization sort of creeps up on him, crawling over his skin and into his hair before it latches onto his scalp, burrowing its way into his brain. “Did I just...did I just overdose?”

“That’s sort of a harsh word for it, I think.”

“Oh my god…”

“Everybody who does coke does too much coke at least once, baby.”

“Should I go to a hospital?” Eddie is getting anxious again, because holy fuck. _Holy fuck._

“Hey, baby, calm down. You’re okay, right? You feel okay? You can breathe okay, your heart rate is normal?”

“Y-Yes, I’m pretty tired, but-”

“Then the ER isn’t going to do anything for you other than charge you $300 and tell you to fuck off,” Richie says dismissively, and Eddie knows that’s probably true, but _Jesus Christ_ , he fucking overdosed.

“I don’t think I should do coke anymore,” he says softly, and Richie chuckles from the other side of the shower curtain.

“You should definitely take a break at least, party monster. I made you some toast, and you have to drink some water, alright? Do you need help getting out?”

“No, I can do it,” Eddie replies, though he’s not sure that he can. But he’s already made an absolute disaster of tonight and having Richie carry his pathetic, wet, naked body out of the bathroom sounds like a nightmare, so he forces his shaky muscles to lift him onto his feet before he turns off the water. Richie passes him a towel over the top of the shower and he wraps himself up in it before opening the curtain to step out of the tub.

And he wants to say no to Richie coddling him anymore than he already has, since this was entirely Eddie’s fault. But it’s too hard to resist when Richie gets him a toothbrush and toothpaste to brush his teeth, and guides him back to his room and gives Eddie a big t shirt and a pair of his boxers to put on, which are so big that he has to roll them at the band. And if he’s being honest, having Richie wrap him up in a blanket and cuddle him on his bed is helping him to feel better much more effectively than the toast that he’s nibbling on. But he still finishes the toast, and drinks the glass of water, and Richie praises him when he’s finished. And he’s just so ready for bed, at this point. He’s done enough damage for one night, and being unconscious sounds irresistible, so he lies back against Richie’s pillows.

“Can we go to bed now? Please?”

“As long as you’re feeling okay.”

“I’m okay. Just tired.”

“Do you want me to wake you up for class? You don’t have class until 2 right?”

“No, I have lit in the morning on Mondays and Wednesdays. Why, what time is it now?”

“It’s almost 4.”

Eddie groans into Richie’s pillow and slams his fist on the mattress, and Richie laughs softly to himself, rubbing up and down Eddie’s back with his fingers.

“Fuck it. Just fuck it, I guess. I’m just not gonna go. It’s just lit, I don’t even- whatever. I don’t care,” Eddie huffs, tucking himself further into Richie’s blankets, which smell so much like him that it’s making him sleepier by the second.

Richie peels his contact lenses out of his eyes and puts them in their case before he climbs under the blankets and pulls Eddie into his chest. Some distant part of Eddie is freaking out because this is the first time he’s going to sleep in another guy’s _bed,_ but honestly, he’s too tired to panic about it right now. Which is probably a good thing.

“Get some sleep, baby,” Richie whispers into his ear before kissing him on the forehead, and Eddie blinks his eyes open just in time to see Richie reaching over to click his bedside lamp off. And Eddie tries not to flinch, but he definitely does. And Richie definitely notices.

“Are you afraid of the dark?” he asks outright, and Eddie wants to say no, because he’s not a baby, he’s not a little kid. But he finds himself nodding, tucking his head further into Richie’s chest.

“I’m right here, baby. I would never let anything bad happen to you, I promise.”

And Eddie startles a little when Richie lifts his chin up to kiss him softly on the lips. It’s so quick and sweet that Eddie’s heart flutters before Richie pulls him back into his chest, rubbing up and down his back until Eddie drifts off to sleep.

When he wakes up in the morning, Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever slept that well in his life. Which might have been because his body shut down after he OD’d, but he likes to hope that it was because he slept in Richie’s arms. And he wakes up before Richie does, with the taller man wrapped around him from behind, snoring softly into his hair. And that’s honestly the cutest thing Eddie has ever witnessed.

He just lies there for a while, and he knows he should probably get up and get back to his dorm. He has no idea what time it is, and he really shouldn’t miss pre-calc or psych since he’s already missed lit. But, fuck, Richie is so warm and comfortable, and he feels so content lying here pressed against him.

Besides, he doesn’t really want to leave without saying goodbye, especially after last night. God, he can’t believe he fucking did that. That’s the problem with coke, though. It makes him feel fucking invincible. It makes him feel like he could hork down a fucking gram by himself and kill God. Which is dangerous, and that’s why he should be more careful. That’s why he should have listened to Richie.

And, ugh, he wishes he didn’t remember telling Richie that story about his mom. But honestly, Richie might not remember, since it launched Eddie into a crisis that sort of overshadowed that embarrassing little tidbit of trauma that he revealed. And honestly, Richie probably won’t bring it up again, because Eddie probably made him super uncomfortable by lamenting to him about his mom like that.

He tries not to think about it and presses his back more firmly against Richie’s chest, and Richie wraps his arms tighter around him in his sleep, and that’s cute. That’s really cute. So, honestly, who cares if he misses lunch with the trio, or if he’s late for pre-calc, or any of it. He definitely doesn’t, not right now.

So he lies there, sort of drifting in and out of sleep, just listening to Richie’s soft snoring. And he doesn’t know how much time passes, but when Richie starts stirring, he’s almost disappointed, because this has been such a peaceful experience. Although Richie being awake means that he gets to talk to Richie, and that’s slightly better than listening to him snore.

But when Richie does start stirring, he shifts his hips forward into Eddie’s, and Eddie definitely feels his dick poking him in the ass. And honestly, he probably should have expected it, but it still draws a startled squeak out of him, and Richie groans as he pulls fully out of sleep.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to poke you with my dick,” he chuckles into Eddie’s ear as he hugs him tighter, and his voice is so deep and rough with sleep, and Eddie feels warmth flood through his whole body.

“It’s- it’s okay,” Eddie stammers, but he’s having a fucking internal meltdown already, and it turns into full-fledged implosion when Richie’s hand drops down to his hip and he squeezes his warm fingers into Eddie’s skin.

Eddie lets out a shaky breath and tries to calm down, but that chaotic _desire_ is flooding back through him in waves, like it was last night, before he fucked everything up. And he really, honestly almost succeeds in ignoring Richie’s hands and Richie’s warm body and Richie’s dick, but then the other man fucking sabotages him by letting out a sleepy, soft moan into Eddie’s ear, and that’s too much. That’s past his limit.

He shifts his hips back and presses his ass more firmly into Richie’s cock, and he definitely lets out a sluttier moan than he intends to when he does it. But that’s okay, because Richie moans into his ear again and uses his grip on Eddie’s hip to pull him back harder, and Eddie is pretty sure he’s going to die again when Richie starts grinding against him.

So, naturally, Eddie pushes back into it, and now they’re basically dry humping, and it’s fucking exciting and electric and Eddie would honestly be content to just do this forever, for the rest of his life. Just rub his ass into Richie’s cock and listen to him moan into his ear and feel him press his fingers into his hips until he stops breathing and evaporates into the stratosphere.

But then Richie slides his hand down between Eddie’s legs, and honestly, _honestly,_ Eddie truthfully thinks this is a dream for a second. Because this sort of thing doesn’t happen to him, not in real life. And the feeling he has is reminiscent of the feeling he’d get when he had wet dreams about his hot gym teacher feeling him up when he was in high school. Just. This is impossible. This can’t be real, right?

No, no, it’s real, _definitely_ real, and he’s already gasping as soon as Richie rubs his hand over Eddie’s cock, which he didn’t realize was this hard until right now. And he’s almost embarrassed by that, but Richie groans when he feels it, and Eddie matches it with his own louder moan as he reaches back to pull Richie’s hips more firmly against him.

“Oh, Eddie, baby. You’re so hard for me, aren’t you?”

And Eddie can’t really get out a coherent response amidst all of his gasping moans, which only get more desperate with Richie whispering so lowly in his ear like that and grabbing at him through the material of his boxers.

He really wants a kiss more than anything, though, so he flips around in Richie’s arms and presses their lips together in one motion, apparently taking Richie off-guard, based on the startled noise that he makes against Eddie’s mouth. Eddie worries for a minute about having morning breath and that they should probably brush their teeth first, but honestly, he doesn’t fucking give a shit, because Richie starts licking into his mouth as soon as he recovers from Eddie’s sudden change in position.

Eddie hooks his leg over Richie’s hip to grind against him, which kind of works, but it isn’t enough. And apparently it’s not enough for Richie, either, because he slides his hand down Eddie’s back to his ass and presses him in harder, giving Eddie better leverage to hump against him. Eddie is fully aware of how loudly he’s whining and moaning into Richie’s mouth as their tongues slide nearly aggressively together, and he would have the mind to be embarrassed about it if it didn’t seem to be spurring Richie on so much.

And _this,_ this is perfect. He’s got the perfect amount of leverage to get the perfect amount of friction, and Richie’s sort of pushing his hips forward to make it easier, and the way Richie is letting out occasional moans into their kiss...just, perfect. All of it, perfect.

So it becomes way too much when Richie runs his hand up Eddie’s back before bringing it back down to his ass, this time sliding his hand under the band of his boxers to caress Eddie’s bare skin. Which might be fine, if he didn’t also grab a handful of Eddie’s ass, and brush his fingers between his cheeks, and groan loudly into Eddie’s mouth while using his grip to grind Eddie’s hips harder into his own. And even all of that _might_ be fine, until he shifts his hips so that their cocks are rubbing more directly against one another.

Eddie doesn’t realize that he’s going to come until he’s already doing it, and he considers trying to play it off like he isn’t, but he can’t help breaking the kiss to let out an embarrassingly _whorish_ sound at the feeling, because it feels _so fucking good._

His bliss only lasts for a moment, though, before he is absolutely fucking despaired, and he kind of wants to run away and never talk to Richie ever again to avoid dealing with this shame. Because Richie halts his movements, which means he definitely knows that Eddie came. And wow, _wow,_ this is quite possibly one of the most embarrassing things that’s ever happened to him in his life.

“Did you...did you just come?”

Eddie can’t really tell based on his tone if Richie is upset or mad or disappointed or what, but it doesn’t really matter, because he tucks himself into a ball and buries his face into Richie’s pillow all the same.

And it feels like a really stupid thing to cry about, but he’s crying. He does his best to hide that, though, to maintain some semblance of dignity.

“Baby doll,” Richie says gently, like he’s talking to a wounded animal. And Eddie knows he’s trying to be comforting, but it launches him into defensive overload and he pulls his wet, red face up from the pillow to give Richie what he’s sure is a pathetically desperate look despite making his best effort to look stern.

“I’ve never done this before,” he cries softly, and Richie is giving him the most pitying look, and it’s making him want to defenestrate himself.

“Are you...are you trying to tell me you’re a virgin?” Richie asks, rubbing along Eddie’s back with his fingertips, and Eddie wishes it weren’t as comforting as it is.

He considers that question for longer than he probably should, but he truthfully doesn’t know how to answer. Is he a virgin? Not technically, right? Not after...not after that. So no, he’s not a virgin.

But he is totally sexually inexperienced and has no idea what he’s doing, and he’s sure that’s probably what Richie is asking. The question isn’t really _are you a virgin,_ it’s _have you had sex before,_ which Eddie can confidently say no to. And that feels better. Feels less like a lie. Lets Eddie stop thinking about it before he’s thinking about it too much.

“Um, yeah. Yes, I am.”

“Really?”

“Don’t sound so fucking shocked,” Eddie snaps, because what the fuck is ‘really? _’_ supposed to mean?

“I just...didn’t expect that, considering the party,” Richie clarifies, kind of, but _fucking fuck_ can they _ever_ just forget that the fucking party happened? Fuck the fucking party! Who gives a fuck about the party!

“What does that mean?” Eddie asks defensively, because what the fuck is Richie implying? That he fucked someone at the party? That he knows what happened to him? Does Richie fucking know what happened to him?

No, no. That’s not possible.

Unless one of the brothers told him.

Eddie feels his head start spinning in anxiety before Richie even has the opportunity to respond.

“I just...I mean, no offense, I’m not exactly a saint or anything. But I wouldn’t exactly describe your behavior that night as _virginal,_ Eds,” Richie offers with a gentle laugh, and Eddie tries to glare at him, but he doesn’t have it in him.

“Are you saying I was acting like a whore?”

“You tried to fuck me in a bathroom, and then you begged me to fuck you in a room full of people. I’m just saying that didn’t really read as ‘virgin’ to me.”

And yeah, okay, that’s fair. That’s fair. Eddie can’t be mad about that, because that’s true. He did those things, as much as he sort of wishes he didn’t, because those are the types of things that girls do at parties that get their cases dismissed in court when they press sexual assault charges. Not that Eddie is planning on doing that. Not that he could, since he doesn’t know who-

No. _No._ Stop.

“Well- well I didn’t particularly want you to know,” he tries to say firmly, but he’s crying again, so he tucks himself further into Richie’s pillow and tries to ignore the increasing discomfort in his crotch as his shame sticks to his skin.

“It’s not a big deal, baby doll. I just wouldn’t have thought,” Richie says softly, and Eddie wishes that he hated being spoken to so gently, but he doesn’t, especially when it’s Richie.

And honestly, he should get up and get to class anyway, so that seems like the perfect excuse to end this conversation. But when he tries to pull out from underneath Richie’s hand rubbing up and down his back, he just can’t. He doesn’t have the willpower. So he stays collapsed against the mattress and feels sorry for himself _again,_ because he can’t get fucking anything about this right so far.

“Yeah, well, now you know.”

“Do you want to go get cleaned up? I can walk you to class,” Richie offers, and Eddie really fucking doesn’t want to go to class, at fucking all. He wants to lie here and have a pity party all day.

“What time is it?”

“It’s, like, almost 1:30. So if you want to get to class-“

“I don’t. I don’t want to get to class, actually. I want to fucking die.”

“Well we’re definitely not gonna do that, so why don’t you tell me what you actually want to do, sport.”

Eddie sighs miserably into the pillow before turning over, trying to muster up the courage to look Richie in the eyes, but he settles for his chin instead. “Well- well are _you_ gonna go to class?”

“Probably not, I already missed my 8am so might as well scrap the whole day at this point,” Richie sighs, reaching over to his bedside table to put on his glasses.

Eddie considers not saying what he’s going to say next, but honestly, at this point he’s such a fucking disaster that if Richie was going to stop talking to him, he would have by now. So being a little clingy isn’t the end of the entire world.

“Well, are you gonna be busy? Or can I stay here?”

“Stay as long as you want,” Richie shrugs, and Eddie can’t hide the little smile on his face, even though he makes his best effort to bite it back.

“Okay, cool.”

He ends up showering again, since he came all over himself. And you know what, honestly, Richie was really cool about the whole thing. So really, it could have been way worse. Richie could have made fun of him or gotten mad or something. But he didn’t.

He feels so weak and weirdly sore all over, which he figures is probably a result of his little episode last night, but he tries not to think about it too much. He won’t do it again. He’ll be careful now, and listen to Richie, because he clearly still has no idea what the fuck he’s doing. Richie was a lot cooler about _that_ than he could have been, too. So really, Eddie should be even more thankful than he is that Richie was there, because something really bad might have happened to him if he weren’t.

The prospect of putting his dirty clothes back on is really grossing him out, but he doesn’t want to go back to his dorm, so he decides to just suck it up and pull his dirty underwear and jeans back on. The shirt is really the worst part, since it’s so wrinkled and disheveled now, but he doesn’t want to ask Richie to borrow _another_ item of clothing, so he gets over it.

Although apparently it’s a lot worse than he thought, because Richie actually laughs when he comes out into the living room.

“What?” he snaps defensively, and Richie puts his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Nothing, nothing. Just for someone who’s so worried about wrinkly bedsheets, you sure are embracing the ‘stayed up all night doing coke’ look this morning.”

“Fuck you, I have no other clothes!”

“I’ll just give you a sweatshirt, it’s no big deal.”

And, well, Eddie would be a liar if he said that didn’t give him a little bit of satisfaction. So he takes the red hoodie that Richie hands to him, and honestly, Richie will be lucky if he ever gets it back. Because this is the sort of domestic boyfriendy shit that Eddie has been craving this whole time.

Richie isn’t his boyfriend, he knows that.

But god fucking dammit, the domestic shit is making it _hard_ for Eddie not to fucking propose or some shit, because Richie makes him _breakfast._ And it’s just a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee, but it’s such a sweet gesture, and Eddie is smiling the entire time that he’s munching on his bowl of mini wheats.

He knows, he _knows_ he should go home soon. He’s been avoiding looking at his phone because he’s sure that Stan is wondering where the fuck he is, and he really doesn’t want to break the spell yet. Because this is so nice. Just lazing around Richie’s apartment, sitting on the couch and watching Netflix. It’s like a fucking dream.

And he kind of convinces himself that it might actually be a dream, or that the rest of the world has just somehow ceased to exist, because this feels too… _normal._ It feels too much like this is just a normal thing for them to be doing. Like they didn’t just meet. Like they’ve been dating for months. Like sitting on the couch with Richie’s head in his lap while they flip through shows is totally normal.

“This is not a fucking comedy, why is this categorized as a comedy? This show is fucking sad as shit,” Eddie argues when Richie tells him to put on _Shameless._

“It’s like a dark comedy, kind of.”

“That’s a very loose application of that term, I feel, but sure.”

“They’re bringing the gays back in the newest season so I’m sort of invested again.”

“You know what, I might be reinvested then too. I will take literally any reason to look at Cameron Monaghan.”

Richie laughs, but whatever response he is preparing is interrupted by the front door opening, and both of them turn to look over the back of the couch as Ben and Beverly come storming through it.

“Richie, you better be fucking awake because I’m fucking fuming and I’m cashing in on that IOU you gave me when we were kids saying that you’d help me bury a body. That stupid dumb bitch _kicked me out_ because we got into it about Vitamin K shots, and she said if I was going to promote the ‘poisoning of her child,’ then I had to leave. So I wanted to take the fucking kid and run but-“ Beverly stops mid-rant as soon as she walks into the living room and sees Eddie sitting there wide-eyed.

“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had company. Or, wait. Is this Eddie?” she asks with an excited smile, and she jumps over the back of the couch before putting her arm around his shoulders. “You _must_ be Eddie; you’re literally all Richie has talked about for weeks now, so I could probably have created a composite sketch at this point.”

“Wow, okay, fuck you too. What the fuck is it with you and your fucking boyfriend putting me on blast?”

“We do it because we love you,” Ben chimes in before carrying their few bags back into his and Beverly’s room.

“Yeah, really feeling the love,” Richie grumbles, and Bev reaches over Eddie to punch him on the shoulder.

“Aren’t you gonna properly introduce me? You’re a terrible host.”

“Okay, first of all, you are fully capable of introducing yourself. And second, he fucking already knows who you are, Beverly.”

She rolls her eyes before turning to face Eddie, who is still more or less shocked silent at this point.

“I’m Beverly, obviously. It’s cool to finally meet you. I’ve been trying to get Richie to invite you over for forever now but he’s too much of a pussy, so I’m glad he finally manned up,” she whispers that last part with a wink, but Richie still scoffs indignantly.

“Hey!”

“He didn’t, actually. I asked to come over,” Eddie giggles, and Bev slaps him amicably on the back.

“Well, at least there’s a pair between you.”

“I don’t care for your tone this afternoon, Beverly,” Richie sighs, and she reaches across Eddie again to muss Richie’s hair.

“Yeah, well, I just basically went to Portland and back for ultimately no reason since my niece is going to die of measles anyway, so excuse me for being particularly sassy,” she argues, before rummaging around in what looks like a cigar box on the coffee table.

She pulls out a grinder and a glass pipe, and Eddie _definitely_ knows it’s not kosher to smoke like that in the on campus apartments, but he doesn’t say anything. His expression must give something away, though, because she glances at him and laughs.

“It’s cool, people do it all the time. One of our neighbors has a fucking dog. And it never shuts the fuck up, so honestly, if he ever threatens to rat on us I’ll rat right back.”

“A dog that I’ve heard he won’t let people pet, so honestly, that’s kind of worse than smoking inside,” Eddie jokes, and Beverly nods enthusiastically.

“Right?! And I know it’s not because the dog has, like, anxiety or something like that. He lets other people pet her all the god damn time! He just doesn’t let us pet her, and honestly, that’s discrimination,” she argues as she packs a bowl.

“Discrimination against who, exactly? I’ve pet her plenty of times,” Ben argues as he walks back into the room to plop himself into a chair adjacent to the couch.

“The gays, obviously.”

“You’re dating _me._ I’m a _man.”_

“Yeah, well, I’m basically only straight for you,” Bev quips before taking a hit, and Eddie lets out a snort of a laugh, which is embarrassing, but Beverly’s face lights up as she exhales on a giggle.

“You’re fucking adorable, huh? Why Richie, of all people?”

“Because I successfully managed to catch him in my trap before he realized that I’ve got nothing to offer him,” Richie jokes back as he snatches the lighter and pipe out of Bev’s hands to take a hit himself.

He holds them out to Eddie when he’s done, and Eddie figures why not, since he’s not going to class anyway. And if they’re smoking in their own apartment, he doesn’t see any reason not to. He doesn’t want to seem high-strung.

So he takes a hit, and he holds the pipe out to Ben when he’s done, but Ben politely shakes his head no. Which Eddie is sort of surprised by, since Beverly clearly smokes pretty often.

Ben gets up to crack a window open, and the three of them stay seated on the couch, passing the bowl around until it’s ‘kicked,’ which isn’t a term Eddie thinks he’s ever heard before, but he files it under the ‘Words to Casually Use so that Richie Doesn’t Think I’m Lame’ subsection of his brain.

“So, you’re an English major, huh?” Beverly asks him, and ugh, he doesn’t want to be reminded.

“Unfortunately. Mostly just as a placeholder because I don’t know what the fuck to do with my life. But I’ve got time to figure it out,” Eddie replies, and Richie ruffles his hair in encouragement, which makes a small smile inch onto his face.

“Preach. I switched majors like…four times, I think, before I settled on psychology. It’s hard to decide what you want to do for the rest of your life at all, it’s basically fucking impossible when you’re 18. Don’t sweat it, honestly. You’ll know what you want to do when you know,” Beverly offers in support, and wow, she makes Eddie feel relaxed just by being around. He’s not sure what it is about her, but she just gives off this energy that’s so comforting. It makes sense that she’s in psychology.

“I don’t know how she didn’t know she wanted to be in psych since we were kids. She used to fucking set up a little psychiatrist’s office in our clubhouse and shrink me. She had a little notepad and everything,” Richie tells him, and honestly, that’s adorable.

“Really, I should give you all the credit, Rich. Watching your complex psychosis come together over the years really inspired me to treat the severely mentally ill.”

“You’re lucky I’m an emotionless husk, because my feelings could be really hurt by that.”

“You’ve never had a feeling once in your life.”

“’A certifiable sociopath,’ I think you called me once.”

“I stand by that armchair diagnosis. I’ve seen you put ketchup and pepper on eggs, Rich. That’s some serial killer shit.”

And, once again, Eddie feels like this is sort of a mean-spirited conversation, but they’re laughing, so this must just be how they joke. Maybe it’s because Eddie has never really had friends close enough to joke with like this, but he finds it odd.

He wants to come up with something witty to say, but it’s hard to find a break in conversation with how quickly Beverly and Richie banter with each other. Which must be why Ben more or less just listens, and laughs, and watches them go at it. And he seems so happy, watching them.

While Eddie is still deciding on what to say, Beverly’s phone starts ringing, and she shushes them all so aggressively that Eddie holds his breath even though he wasn’t even speaking.

“Gotta take this,” she says before jumping up from the couch to jog to her room, where she closes the door behind her. Richie and Ben seem unfazed by this, but it seems like it might be a serious phone call, so Eddie is definitely confused and a little concerned.

“Is everything, like, okay? Is that her cousin?” Eddie asks Ben quietly, and Ben shakes his head with a laugh.

“No, no way. If that was her cousin, she would have answered the phone screaming.”

“So…so is everything okay? She seemed pretty bugged.”

“She does this volunteer thing- well, I guess it’s not technically volunteering since she gets class credits for it. But she answers calls for the campus crisis center’s phone line.”

“I didn’t know that we had a crisis center.”

“Yeah, it’s basically like…if you’re having a meltdown, you can go to the crisis center and get help for it, and they can help to get you in contact with a therapist and stuff. The call center is more like…like the suicide hotline, I guess. It’s like phone therapy, sort of. They just try to talk people down and get them to come in to the crisis center before they do something dumb,” Ben shrugs, and Eddie is definitely more curious than he should be.

“Is it…is it confidential?”

“Yeah, it’s totally legit. Bev’s trained and everything.”

“So…so what kind of stuff do people call about?”

“I donno. Everything. Break-ups, depression, stressing about school,” Ben shrugs again, and Eddie wants to let it go, since he got his answer, but he didn’t really get his answer, so he keeps asking.

“So, like…so…so people just call to talk? Just talk about stuff? And it’s anonymous?”

“Yeah, basically. I mean unless you admit to, like, murdering someone. Then I’m pretty sure they have to tell the cops. But otherwise, yeah.”

“That’s really…that’s really cool. That she does that. She must be really passionate about psychology.”

“She’s fucking good at it, too. Some people call because their goldfish just died, some people call because they’re getting ready to slit their wrists, and she just, like, knows how to handle that shit. She’ll make a great psychologist,” Richie chimes in, and Eddie bumps him with an elbow.

“Look at you, saying nice things.”

“Don’t tell her; it’ll go to her head, and she really can’t afford to be fuller of herself than she already is.”

“You’re one to talk, Rich. Still can’t figure out where all of that bravado comes from,” Ben chides, and Richie flips him off.

“Mostly my fat cock.”

“Gross.”

“You asked.”

Bev comes back a few minutes later as if nothing has happened, and Eddie finds that weirdly comforting. She didn’t come into the room and tell them about the conversation, she didn’t even mention it. That’s nice. It’s nice that she does that.

Eddie ends up staying at their apartment until dinner time, and even then, he doesn’t really want to leave. But inevitably, Stan calls him once it reaches 5pm, and he figures he can’t avoid the man forever. So despite Richie loudly groaning when his phone starts to ring, he accepts the call and presses his phone to his ear.

“Hi Stan,” he says cautiously, and Richie gives him two thumbs down, which Eddie promptly slaps away.

“Hey, Eddie. Just wondering if you’re going to come get dinner with us?” Stan asks much too casually, and Eddie can practically hear his teeth grinding through the phone.

“Um, yeah! Sorry, didn’t realize it was so late. Are you guys going now?”

“Yeah, we were just about to head out.”

“Okay, cool. Um, yeah, I’ll leave now. It might take me a little bit to get there so don’t wait up, I’ll just come find you once I get there,” Eddie tells him, already moving to pull his shoes back on. Richie motions wildly at him before mouthing ‘what the fuck,’ and Eddie ignores him and continues to tie his sneakers.

“Are you still at Richie’s?” Stan asks lightly, but Eddie knows it’s a loaded question.

“Yes.”

“Okay. Well, see you there.”

Eddie is sort of shocked, but whatever, he’s not going to question it. “See you.”

Once he hangs up the phone, Richie scoffs loudly, and Eddie makes a show of rolling his eyes.

“So you’re just gonna run back to Papa Stanley because he told you to?” Richie asks, and he sort of sounds actually mad, and Eddie startles at the tone of his voice.

“Well I- I have to go home eventually, Richie. I have to eat and do my homework and stuff,” Eddie argues, and Richie narrows his eyes, and Eddie is getting panicky.

“You didn’t seem all that concerned about it until Stan called.”

“Rich, stop being a fucking asshole. Not everyone stays up all fucking night and does the bare ass minimum to pass with Cs like you do,” Bev defends, and Eddie glances at her appreciatively.

“I’m not being an asshole, Stan is!”

“I have no fucking idea who Stan is, but even if he is being an asshole, _you’re_ being a fucking asshole to Eddie as a result, so reel it the fuck in,” Bev orders sternly, and Richie glares at her before backing down.

“Okay, yeah. You’re right,” he says, though it comes out clipped and stiff, and it isn’t making Eddie feel any better.

“I can- I can stay, if you want me to,” Eddie offers gently, trying to wipe the sweat from his palms onto his jeans.

“No, it’s okay. I’m being an asshole, apparently. I just personally don’t like being told what to do,” Richie says casually, but it feels like a dig.

“He didn’t- he didn’t _tell_ me, he asked,” Eddie defends more firmly this time, and he can’t read Richie’s expression, and it’s scaring him more than it probably should.

“Asking and demanding are sort of the same thing, depending on how manipulative you are.”

Eddie feels anger sear through him. “He’s not being fucking manipulative. My friend worrying about me isn’t manipulative. He asked if I want to go to dinner, and I do, so I’m going. I don’t get why you’re- you’re trying to make an issue out of it.”

“I just don’t deal well with people who hate me for no good reason. Sort of puts me on edge. If you’re gonna hate me, pick one out of hundreds of perfectly valid reasons to hate me. Stan is just up his own ass and needs to hop off his high horse.”

“He- He actually asked if you would be willing to hang out. He said he made a bad first impression and he wants to get to know you. He’s making a real effort. It would be cool if you could too.”

“Right, a bad first impression. I think accusing me of Brock Turnering you is more than making a bad first impression. He’s acting like I raped you in a dumpster or something when I-“

“ _Stop!”_ Eddie finds himself screeching, and it must take the three of them off-guard almost as much as it takes him off-guard, based on the shocked looks on their faces. “Stop. You’re being a fucking dick. Stan is one of my closest friends, and if you don’t like that, then shut the fuck up about it or stop hanging out with me. I talked to him already, and he offered to make amends. I don’t know what the fuck else you want, but I’m not going to listen to this anymore,” Eddie manages to get out firmly, despite how choked up he feels next to his heart.

Richie just stares at him with wide eyes for a moment before glancing at Ben, who avoids his gaze, and Bev, who gives him a pointed stare.

“Uh…I’m sorry, Eddie. You-You’re right. I’m sorry. That was fucked up. I would…I would love to get a second go at meeting Stanley. The right way,” he eventually gets out, and Eddie relaxes by a fraction.

“I get why you’re upset. You have a right to be upset. But you both have this weird testosterone-charged tension between you, and I’m not- I’m not here for it, okay? So I appreciate you agreeing to meet with him again; that means a lot to me. Thank you. Sorry I yelled,” Eddie nearly whispers that last part, and now that his surge of confidence is over, he’s sort of nervous to look at Richie when he says it.

“It’s cool, I was being a shit bag.”

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you apologize that easily,” Bev comments, and Richie flips her off.

“I’ll, um…I’ll walk you downstairs,” Richie offers, standing from the couch to lead Eddie to the lobby of the building after he says his goodbyes to Ben and Beverly.

By the time they get there, Eddie feels bad about yelling more than anything. But fuck, he’s over this. Very over this weirdness between Richie and Stan.

“I really am sorry that I yelled at you like that,” Eddie apologizes softly once they make it to the front door, and he’s both relieved and annoyed by Richie having already slipped back into nonchalance.

“It’s okay. Gave me a chubby, honestly.”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

“Thought it was a fluke the first time, but nope. Your voice raised a decibel and I nearly pre-jacked.”

“You’re so gross, you know that?”

“Didn’t seem to think I was all that gross this morning,” Richie teases, and Eddie’s cheeks go crimson.

“We’re never talking about that ever again.”

“We’re never talking about what again? Oh, you mean the way that you were grinding your dick against me until you came in your pants like a middle schooler this morning?”

“Stop it,” Eddie begs, but Richie has that glint in his eyes.

“God, baby, I don’t think I could if I wanted to. You just _do_ something to me, I can’t control it,” Richie tells him lowly, gripping Eddie’s chin to lift his lips up for a kiss. Eddie gladly reciprocates, despite how annoyed he is with Richie. Because god, how could he not?

When he pulls away, Richie ducks down for another few pecks, and Eddie starts giggling when Richie kisses him across his cheeks and on his nose. He lets it go on until he sees people approaching the building, and he turns his face away before hugging Richie around the middle.

He wants to say ‘goodbye,’ or ‘text me,’ or ‘goodnight,’ or something along those lines, but what ends up coming out of his mouth when he opens it is “Sorry that I’m a virgin.”

“Don’t really know if that’s something to apologize for,” Richie chuckles, and Eddie shakes his head against his chest.

“It is, it is. Because I keep fucking things up, and that’s probably why, and I’m sorry I’m not- I’m not more like you,” he says, and he’s not sure why his eyes feel wet where he has them closed against Richie’s shirt, but they’re definitely stinging behind his eyelids.

Richie is quiet for a moment before he pulls Eddie away by the shoulders, and Eddie blinks up at him, and yeah, those are tears.

“You shouldn’t be like me,” he says softly, then gives Eddie a weird look that he can’t decode, before he pats him on the head like a little kid. “Good night, Eddie. Be safe, okay? Look out for yourself,” he says, and that’s weird, because walking across campus this early at night isn’t a particularly dangerous thing to do.

“I will,” Eddie says anyway, and he watches as Richie moves away from him to re-enter the building before the students coming up the steps make it to the door. Richie holds the door open for them before disappearing behind it himself, and Eddie stands there for a moment, befuddled.

He snaps out of it when a second group of students begin walking up the steps to the building, and he finally turns to walk in the direction of the dining hall near his dorm building.

That was weird. That was a weird exchange at the end, there. Then again, Eddie _did_ just yell at him, so that makes sense, he supposes. And he did make things weird by apologizing for being a virgin, because who the fuck says that? Although he feels it was justified, considering that he squandered their only un-interrupted opportunity to really do anything by coming in his pants like a pubescent little boy.

But Richie said he wasn’t mad about that, so maybe Eddie shouldn’t have apologized again. Maybe it made Richie uncomfortable. Maybe he overstayed his welcome. He was at his apartment all night and into the day after he had invited himself over, and that probably wasn’t a cool thing to do. He should have waited for Richie to ask him over, because all he did last night was barge into his apartment, snort too much coke, and come in his pants.

Wow, he’s a fucking disaster. And that’s a really, really upsetting thing to realize as he’s trudging across campus in dirty clothes and a borrowed sweatshirt. And it’s really all he can think about as he’s walking, just a replay over and over and over of all the stupid shit he’s done every time he’s been with Richie. All the embarrassing things. All the cock-blocking, inexperienced fumbling and- and _teasing._ At least, that’s probably how it feels to Richie, right? Like he’s a tease? And that- that must be- _that must be so frustrating for him, don’t you think?_

He has to just commit the next time they hang out, he decides. Just bite the bullet and go for it, because Richie is going to lose his patience soon. He would be justified, definitely. And they’ve officially been on three dates, so that means Richie is expecting it now. So Eddie has to just swallow down his nerves and man up.

But there’s that annoyingly frantic and terrified part of his brain that he wishes he could chop off screaming _If you fuck him you’re a whore! You’re a whore just like_ he _said!_ And he’s been pretty good at ignoring this part of his brain, but he has to admit that it sort of has a point, doesn’t it? So little time has gone by, and he’s already going to have sex again? Well, not _again,_ not technically right? Because- because _that_ doesn’t count as having sex, right?

He read online when he was stupidly allowing himself to think about this the other night that it’s better to view it as an act of violence than a sexual act, because attackers who do things like that to people do them to feel power over them, not necessarily for sexual satisfaction. And he’s been trying to look at it that way, but- but- but he didn’t really _hurt_ Eddie. _I don’t want to hurt you, baby._ The worst he has are a few bruises. He’s read stories about women who have needed reconstructive surgery after how violent their assaults were.

And really, he’s incredibly lucky that that isn’t what happened to him. The man could have beaten Eddie and left him to die. He could have- he could have _raped him bloody_ like he wanted to. And maybe that’s why the idea of sex doesn’t repulse Eddie like it probably should. Because he didn’t get hurt. He even- he even- _I want you to come again, want to feel you come on my dick._

It’s hard to think of it as violent. He can’t, really. Because it wasn’t, and he seemed very concerned with making sure Eddie felt good during it. _See, baby? I told you I’d make you feel good._

And honestly, isn’t he being a bit overdramatic? He didn’t get hurt so bad that he’ll never be able to have children, or so bad that his colon ruptured, or so bad that he had to get stitched up. He isn’t covered in bruises and bites. He’s not even sore anymore.

He shouldn’t be so fucking agonized over this. It could have been so, so much worse for him. And all he’s doing is taking away from people who actually deserve to feel agonized over their assaults, because they ended up in the hospital, or were left behind dumpsters, or had permanent damage done to their bodies. Eddie was left in a bed, with just the ghosts of hands and words. And that’s nothing in comparison to what some of these other people- these _survivors_ \- have been through. And he doesn’t deserve the fucking pity party that he’s been throwing for himself.

So he’s just going to bite down and get it over with, because despite how anxious he is about it, it should be easy after the first time. The first time will basically just…wipe away what happened to him, and then after that, he’ll be smooth sailing.

Besides, he _wants_ to. He wants Richie to touch him and kiss him and be inside of him. He thinks about it a shameful amount. Maybe more than he did before, but for his own sanity, he tells himself that that’s because physically meeting Richie in person amplified his attraction. If he lets himself consider how what happened to him might have impacted that, it feels like a fresh scab he shouldn’t pick at, so he doesn’t think about it. He doesn’t want to see what’s underneath it. He doesn’t want to think about it.

He sort of wants to just walk past the dining hall and go home instead by the time he reaches the freshman corner of campus, but he forces his legs up the steps of the building and into the dining area. And he finds his friends immediately, because Stan is waving frantically at him, and he jogs over to their table to find them nearly finished eating already. And he considers just not eating anything, since he ate so many tacos last night, but Bill pushes a plate in front of the empty seat and lifts a second plate from the top of it to reveal roasted chicken and veggies underneath. And that’s really thoughtful, so Eddie sits down and takes the silverware that Mike holds out to him and starts eating, despite feeling bad for making them wait.

“So you guys had a good time, I’m guessing? Were you there all day?” Bill asks conversationally, and Eddie swallows a mouthful of chicken before responding. Why is he so god damn hungry?

“Yeah, we had an awesome time. We just hung out all day. It was so nice.”

“That’s his sweatshirt you’re swimming in, I’m guessing?” Mike asks with a playful nudge, and Eddie goes red in the cheeks to match it.

“Yeah, he said I could borrow it for now.”

“Looks cute on you.”

“Does he have roommates? Did you get to meet any of his friends?” Stan asks, and it sounds a little stiff, a little _hostile,_ but Eddie tries to ignore it, because he’s trying to be in a happy, positive mood about last night, despite his multiple fuck ups.

“Yeah! He has two, they’re a couple. Ben and Beverly. They’re great. Ben is a history and education double major, he wants to be a high school teacher. Bev is a psych major, she wants to do clinical psych. She volunteers for the campus crisis center,” Eddie tells him happily, and Stan smiles warmly at him.

“So they’re nice?”

“So nice. Well, you know, kind of rough around the edges a bit. Kinda like Richie is. Ben is more or less a big teddy bear, but Bev is- is fiery. She’s awesome,” Eddie gushes.

“I’m glad that his friends were there for you to meet,” Stan says, and oh, that’s why he was asking. Because he was trying to figure out if they were there all night. That puts a bit of a damper on Eddie’s excitement, but hey, he’s not gonna let it get him down.

He finishes his food as fast as he can so that they can go back to the dorm, and he sort of wants to ask Stan and Bill to go so that he can focus on getting his homework done and go to bed. But he doesn’t, and honestly, he can’t focus anyway. He’s been checking his phone every five seconds, because Richie still hasn’t texted him since he left. Which is fine, he didn’t leave that long ago. But he figured Richie would have texted him by now.

It doesn’t start to _really_ bother him until he’s finished his homework, and it’s nearly 10pm, and Richie still hasn’t texted him. So he decides to be clingy _again_ and text him first, because he just wants to know that Richie is okay, mostly. He seemed weird when Eddie left.

_E: Hey, I’m gonna go to bed soon, was just wondering what you’re up to?_

And for the twelve minutes that it takes for Richie to respond, Eddie doesn’t do much more than stare at his phone.

_R: Sorry, ended up running to OGR after you left._

_How was dinner?_

_E: Good._

_Why are you at OGR?_

_R: Just some stupid bullshit, nothing important._

_Stan wasn’t weird about you being here all day?_

_E: I mean, he sort of was, but not as weird as I thought he was going to be._

_You never told me what business you have there_

_R: Like I said, hard to explain._

_I gotta go, I’m sorry._

_E: Oh okay I’m sorry_

_Didn’t mean to bother you_

_R: I’m just dealing with some shit rn so I can’t really text_

_E: I understand_

_It’s cool_

_Talk to you tomorrow?_

_R: Yeah_

_Sweet dreams Eds_

_E: Good night_

And wow, that was worse. Eddie just shouldn’t have texted him. But he said he was busy, right? So maybe he wasn’t being curt, and he was just in the middle of something, and Eddie texted him at a bad time. But what the fuck could he be doing there that requires that much of his attention?

Eddie realizes that that’s what’s bothering him most about the situation. Whatever Richie’s business is at OGR, he clearly doesn’t want Eddie to know. And that would be something he could let go, maybe, if he didn’t get a gross, itchy feeling in the back of his throat every time he thinks about OGR. Thinks about the brothers laughing at him, and how many of them clearly knew what had happened to him. How many of them found it amusing that Eddie woke up ravaged and confused in a place he didn’t recognize.

But Richie isn’t a brother, so Eddie figures he just doesn’t know the same things that they know. He must not have been told what happened to Eddie that night, because Eddie can’t imagine that he wouldn’t have said something about it by now.

But isn’t that kind of weird? Everybody saw them together. Richie is crazy popular, the brothers definitely knew that Eddie was there with him. So wouldn’t they tell him?

Maybe not. But they probably would.

Thinking about this right before bed is a bad idea, like it always is. Unfortunately, that’s when Eddie’s brain naturally seems to want to think about it. He tries to turn his brain off and tuck under his covers and go to bed by the light of his phone screen, but he can’t stop thinking about the fucking crisis center, for some reason. Which feels like a weirdly intrusive thought.

He isn’t even really sure why, but his brain is just looping the same tidbits of information over and over again in his head. _Anonymous. Confidential. They can help you. People call about all kind of things._ And he’s repeating them like a list almost, or almost like he’s trying to convince himself that these things are true. Which is probably just his tired brain hyper focusing on something before bed like it does sometimes, but it doesn’t really feel that way.

So he googles it, just to get it out of his system. And sure enough, the first result that pops up is the phone number for the crisis hotline. And it almost startles him, looking at the big blue numbers on the screen. And so he closes out of the Google app and puts on another ASMR video to go to sleep to. But then he still can’t stop thinking about it, so he googles it again and saves the number into his phone, just to have it. Because if he has it, then he’ll stop thinking about it. So he saves it in his phone under ‘Yikes,’ because he doesn’t know what else to put. And then he settles in, puts his headphones in, and listens to some chick rub makeup brushes on a microphone until he can finally get to sleep.

The next few days are….weird. Richie still texts him during the day, but it’s not as often, and his responses seem clipped and short. He doesn’t send Eddie the usual pictures and videos like he normally does, either. And Eddie starts panicking, because he probably fucked up for good this time. He shouldn’t have done so much coke. Richie is probably upset because he had to take care of Eddie like a fucking baby while he had an earth shattering panic attack in his bed all night.

Or maybe… maybe he shouldn’t have initiated their dry hump session in Richie’s bed. Because he’s pretty sure that Richie is mad that Eddie has blue-balled him _four times_ now. Which is justified, because that must be so, so annoying. And really, Richie has had the patience of a saint up until this point, and Eddie should be grateful that he put up with it as many times as he did.

But really, he probably shouldn’t have told Richie that he’s a virgin. Because he’s sure that must make it seem like Eddie isn’t willing to have sex with him, so of course Richie is losing interest. But he can’t exactly text him out of the blue and say ‘Hey! Just to clarify, when I said I’m a virgin, I didn’t mean that I don’t want to have sex! I do want to have sex! With you! I’m just scared!’

He especially can’t do that now that things are weird between them. And at first, Eddie thinks that maybe he’s reading into things too much. But after three days of Richie’s weird, short responses to texts and not a single dog spotting video to be seen, Eddie is pretty sure that Richie is losing interest in him.

And that hurts, really terribly. Because he really likes Richie, and he wishes he could go back in time and do things differently. Do a lot of things differently. But that’s not reality, so he has to just try his best to pick up the pieces and make Richie see that he’s not as much of a disaster as he’s seemed so far. Well, he is, but he can be better.

_E: Hey, I know you’re probably busy, but I was wondering if you’re free Sunday?_

_There’s this pop-up flea market thing in Bangor_

_Looks kinda cool, they’ve got lots of old vinyl and shit_

_Vintage curios_

_Seems like something you’d be into_

_R: That very much does sound like something I’d be into_

_But I have so much homework to do this weekend, so it’s gonna have to be a no from me_

_Sorry_

_E: I mean I do too_

_Not even for a few hours?_

_R: Sorry champ_

_E: Well then if you’re gonna be doing hw do you wanna do it together?_

_We could go to the library and study together_

_If you want to_

_I understand if you’d rather be alone to focus obv no pressure_

_R: Ummmm sure why not_

_E: Yeah??_

_Like what time do you think? Library?_

_R: Sure, noon?_

_E: Okay yeah!_

Eddie doesn’t really have all that much homework to do, but whatever. He’ll get a head start on the lit essay he has due in a few weeks, and that will occupy enough time that it won’t seem like he’s just tagging along to have an excuse to be around Richie. Which he is. But it won’t seem that way.

He spends most of the morning on Sunday psyching himself up for what he’s hoping won’t be an uncomfortable meet up that ends with Richie telling Eddie that he doesn’t want to see him anymore. Which he’s terrified of, but truthfully, he’s more determined than anything to prove to Richie that he’s worth his time.

Doing homework at the library isn’t the most exciting environment for doing that, but he figures if it goes well, Richie might invite him to his apartment after, and Eddie can prove that he’s not a tease or a prude. So that’s the end goal here. Get to Richie’s apartment, suck his dick at the minimum, get him to realize Eddie isn’t being a chaotic mess on purpose.

So he puts on his black jeans that Richie said make his ass look really nice, and his forest green sweater with a white button up shirt underneath, and he thinks he looks nice. This is the type of outfit he’d normally wear that would make Richie tell him he looks good. So it’s perfect.

Eddie decides to stop at the campus café on his way to the library to treat himself to a cappuccino. He figures he deserves it after the amount of stress this weirdness with Richie is causing him, and he needs something to amp him up anyway. So he’s gonna treat himself to a fucking cappuccino.

He texts Richie and asks him if he wants anything before they meet at the library, to which Richie _could_ have just replied ‘No,’ but instead replies ‘No wonder your growth was so god damn stunted, how much caffeine do you drink?!’

Eddie tells him to go fuck himself before ordering his coffee at the counter, and as he’s pulling out his wallet to pay, someone steps up next to him at the counter.

“Can I also get a dark roast with a splash of cream? And a blueberry muffin. And I’ll pay for his too,” the person says, reaching to hand the cashier money.

He recognizes the voice instantly and whips his head around to see this guy from his pre-calculus recitation, whose name he is desperately racking his brain to try to remember.

“Hey, Eddie, right?” he asks with a charming smile, which makes it worse, because Eddie _really_ can’t remember his name now, and he’s getting flustered staring up at him.

“Hi,” is what he dumbly comes out of his mouth, and he watches as the guy gets his change from the cashier, and he allows himself to be ushered over to the order pick-up window, all while trying to grasp what the fuck is happening.

“Sorry about ambushing you like that; I thought it was you in front of me but I wasn’t sure until I heard your voice.”

“I- Why- Why did you do that?” he asks, then worries that it sounds rude as soon as it leaves his lips, but he barely knows who the fuck this guy is but he apparently knows who Eddie is and-

“I see you here a lot before class, I’m just usually too nervous to come say hi. I guess I was feeling bold today,” he explains with his perfect smile still in place, and Eddie knows he’s staring, but Jesus. He’s so handsome.

“You- you- why would you be nervous to talk to me? I’m not intimidating. _You’re_ intimidating. Wait- oh my god, I’m sorry, I just mean-”

“I don’t know if I’d describe myself as ‘intimidating’,” he laughs, and it sounds like fucking honey, if that makes any sense, which it probably doesn’t, but what the fuck.

“Tall,” is what Eddie eloquently states, and he laughs again, and the sound of it is sticking in Eddie’s ears like molasses.

“A gentle giant, I promise,” he jokes, and Eddie feels like his head is going to fucking pop off of his neck and roll across the floor.

He stands there and panics inside of his head while Nameless Hot Guy grabs their drinks from the barista and carries them over to a small table, and Eddie just follows him, because what the fuck else is he supposed to do?

He doesn’t sit down though, and neither does Eddie, and he sort of wants to run away, but his feet feel glued to the floor.

“So, um...are you having as much trouble with this most recent assignment as I am?” he asks conversationally, and Eddie lets out a pained groan.

“God, don’t remind me. I’ve barely even looked at it. I have no fucking idea what I’m doing,” he admits, and the guy takes a sip of his coffee before that smile comes back, and Eddie’s ears are red.

“Neither do I,” he laughs. “Do you maybe want to meet up and try to figure it out together? Our combined brain power might result in some semblance of a normal person with any grasp on mathematical concepts,” he jokes, and Eddie is nodding before he even really processes what he said.

“I- I- Yeah, yes, totally. It’s- it’s definitely gonna mostly be you handholding me through it, because I guarantee you that I know less than you do, but yeah, I’m super down,” he agrees with a stupid smile on his face, but it must not be too stupid, because Hot Guy is still grinning down at him.

“Awesome. Are you busy right now, or?” he asks, gesturing to the empty table, and Eddie remembers that he’s supposed to be on his way to meet up with Richie.

“Oh fuck, god fucking dammit,” he mutters, and Hot Guy snorts out a laugh.

“So I’ll take it that you aren’t free right now?”

“No, no, I- I mean yes, no, I’m- no,” Eddie stammers like a fucking idiot, then slaps a hand over his mouth, cursing himself for how fucking dumb he sounds right now. Why is he fucking like this? “I’m supposed to be meeting up with someone,” he finally gets out, and Hot Guy nods in understanding, reaching into his pocket.

Eddie watches him pull out the cafe receipt and a pen, and he bends over to scribble on the back of it before handing the piece of paper to Eddie, who feels frozen in place again.

“Well, here; let me know if you want to set up that study date. I could definitely use it,” he says, and his fingers brush Eddie’s when he grabs the receipt from him, and Eddie looks down at it to see “Troy” written in large, neat handwriting with a phone number underneath it.

“Troy!” Eddie exclaims out loud, and Troy laughs, and Eddie wants to crawl into a hole. “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t- I couldn’t remember your name, but I didn’t want to seem like a fucking asshole-”

“It’s okay, no worries. It’s not like I’ve had the guts to talk to you before outside of class,” he shrugs and takes another sip of his drink, and Eddie feels like he’s in an alternate reality or something. Eddie just looks at him for a moment, but Troy is looking at something else behind Eddie, and his eyebrows furrow in confusion after a moment. And Eddie wants to turn to see what he’s looking at, but his eyes feel glued.

“Is that the guy you’re meeting?” he points, still looking behind Eddie, and Eddie finally tears his eyes away to turn around, where he sees Richie standing at the cafe entrance, clearly staring right at him.

“Fuck!” Eddie exclaims quietly, moving to walk toward him when Troy stops him with a hand on his arm.

“Your coffee,” he says, and Eddie curses himself for being an idiot for what feels like the millionth time already today.

“Right, sorry. Thank you so much, by the way. Holy shit, I didn’t say thank you, I’m such a fucking asshole! I’m so-”

“No worries, Eddie,” he laughs. “My pleasure. Have a good day, I’ll see you in pre-calc tomorrow,” he dismisses casually, and Eddie just waves, looking back at him once more before shuffling toward the exit, where Richie is standing and waiting for him.

Once he gets there, Richie immediately throws an arm over his shoulders to pull him in close to his side, and Eddie jolts at the contact. He wasn’t expecting Richie to be so physical with him considering their current weirdness. Richie doesn’t say anything before they get outside, and his silence is making Eddie nervous.

“Was wondering what the fuck was taking you so long. Didn’t realize you were just taking a moment to flirt with Michael B. Jordan,” Richie says tightly, and Eddie goes stiff under his arm.

“I wasn’t- I wasn’t flirting-”

“He was flirting with you,” Richie interrupts, and Eddie glances up at him, but Richie is just looking straight ahead, and his jaw is clenched, and Eddie feels panic wash over him.

Except….except no, that’s not fucking fair. Because Richie is the one who has been distant and _weird_ lately, and it’s not a crime for Eddie to flirt with other guys.

“He asked me to meet up to work on pre-calc together. He’s gonna come over tomorrow after class to do homework with me,” Eddie lies, and he isn’t even really sure why.

“On your _birthday?”_ Richie bites, and oh yeah, tomorrow is his birthday. He forgot.

“I hate my birthday. It’s just a day that marks the passing of time in my life, I’m not celebrating or anything. I hate my birthday,” he repeats, and this time Richie does look down at him, but Eddie can’t decipher his expression.

“I can help you with pre-calc.”

“So can Stan, but neither of you are actually in my class. Plus I’ll probably learn more figuring stuff out with someone else who doesn’t really get it.”

“So that’s how you’re spending your birthday? With some guy doing math all afternoon?” Richie bites, and Eddie shouldn’t be as excited as he is that this is making Richie jealous.

“What’s the problem with that? I _hate_ my birthday. I hate it. It’s just another day. So as far as I’m concerned, doing math in my room with a nice guy from my class is about as mundane a day as I can conceive of.”

“Yeah, well, use a condom,” Richie grumbles, and Eddie stops short, causing Richie to pull his arm from Eddie’s shoulders.

“What’s your deal? Like seriously, what’s your issue lately? You’ve been weird all week, and now you’re getting pissy at me for hanging out with someone?”

Richie looks down at him and bites his lip before grabbing Eddie by the arm and pulling him in the direction of the library.

“Sorry for being weird lately. It’s been a weird week.”

“Well- Well you can talk to me about it, you know.”

“Not really.”

“Yes you can!”

“No, I really can’t, Eddie. So drop it, because you don’t want to know,” Richie says firmly, throwing a serious glance at Eddie over his shoulder.

“I do want to know!”

Richie stops and turns on him, crowding into his space so suddenly that Eddie gets a little nervous at the serious look on his face as he stares down at him.

“Ever heard the expression ‘curiosity killed the cat?’”

“But satisfaction brought it back.”

“Okay, what about ‘what you don’t know won’t hurt you?’”

“Not knowing things has consistently hurt me throughout my entire life, so I beg to differ.”

“You’re a stubborn little shit.”

“Thank you.”

Richie huffs out a humorless laugh and rolls his eyes, rubbing a hand down his face before he looks down at Eddie again, who is looking back at him with as stern of an expression as he can muster.

“Eddie, sometimes you’re better off not knowing, even if you really want to.”

And Eddie really isn’t sure what to say to that. He wants to keep mean-mugging up at Richie and stand his ground, but something about his tone, or maybe the look on his face, _something_ is putting Eddie on edge. He feels a queasy tug in his belly and backs down, dropping his shoulders in submission before Richie grabs for his hand and starts leading him back toward the library.

Neither of them bring it up for the rest of the afternoon, and Eddie can’t decide if he’s thankful for it or not. He really wants to, because he doesn’t understand what the fuck Richie is saying, and the implications of _not knowing_ are scary. But at the same time, Richie is a grown man. He doesn’t have to explain himself to Eddie.

He does a lot more thinking than he does writing, and it’s helpful that they’re in the library, because he doesn’t feel pressure to talk. And apparently neither does Richie, because he spends most of the time quiet, tapping away on his laptop with a giant book titled _Baroque Art and Architecture: Roman Catholicism in the 17 th Century _open in front of him, and Eddie honestly can’t tell if it’s for a religious studies class or an art class. Probably art, since it’s Richie, but that sounds horribly boring for an art class.

Still, Eddie finds himself glancing over ever time Richie flips a page, and soon, he’s totally abandoned trying to write about the subtextual homoerotic implications of Patroclus and Achilles’ relationship in favor of rubber-necking to look at the paintings and sculptures depicted on the semi-gloss pages of Richie’s textbook.

They all look so depressing. Every painting is dark and dreary, and the staunch religiosity of it all is giving Eddie flashbacks from his CCD classes when he was younger. They all sort of start to melt together, until he sees this one painting. And he isn’t sure why it catches his attention, because it’s just as dark and dreary as the rest, with its dark shadows and red tones and crying people sitting around what looks like a dead body. But he’s very occupied with staring at it, which is easy, considering that an entire page is dedicated to this one rather unremarkable painting. He instinctively shoots a hand out to stop Richie when he moves to flip the page again, and Richie looks at him in confusion.

“What?”

“What’s this painting?”

“Like what is it called, or-“

“Like what about it? Tell me about it,” Eddie asks, and Richie lets out a breath, and Eddie is sure that he’s going to say something along the lines of ‘I don’t fucking know, it’s just some dead chick.’

“It’s called _The Death of The Virgin._ It was painted by Carvaggio in…I don’t remember the year, but it was early 17th century, so pretty early Baroque,” Richie shrugs, and Eddie furrows his brows.

“So is it, like, an important painting or something? How come your textbook focuses on it?”

“This chapter specifically is about controversial artwork during the Baroque period.”

“Why was it controversial?”

“Well,” Richie starts, running his finger gently over the pale, dead face of the woman in the red dress. “The depiction of the virgin, mostly. The model was actually a prostitute, which was a big deal, since it’s technically a Madonna. They had a prostitute dressed in red and called her the Virgin, and that was unacceptable to a lot of Catholics at the time. The depiction of a whore as the Virgin Mary was declared blasphemous by the Pope at the time, too. Especially because the death of the Virgin was something that the church had decreed was free of sickness and of pain, but here she is: a pale, dead, distended whore, bathed in light that exposes her for what she is. There’s no respect, no holiness. Just a dead prostitute that you’re supposed to believe is a virgin because you’re told to.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Eddie breathes, and all of a sudden, he doesn’t really want to look at the painting anymore.

“Pretty heavy shit,” Richie says with a non-committal shrug, before turning the page and going back to his paper.

As much as Eddie had been looking forward to this study date, he’s sort of happy when it’s over. He doesn’t really know if he’s made any progress with Richie; if anything, he’s more sure than he was before that Richie is distancing himself, based on his weird, cryptic warning not to ask him too many questions about why he’s been so off lately. And Richie doesn’t ask if he wants to come over, so that part of his plan is a wash, too. And honestly, this whole day has been kind of bad, so he just wants to be home so he can feel bad about himself in peace.

“Want me to walk you back?” Richie asks politely, but Eddie knows it’s probably only to be polite, so he declines.

“No, I’m good. Thanks.”

“Okay, well… text me later?”

“Yeah, I will,” Eddie agrees, and they exchange awkward smiles, and Richie ruffles Eddie’s hair before he gets up from the table that they’re sharing to exit the library alone.

Eddie waits a few more minutes before dragging himself out of his own seat to walk back to his dorm. Once he’s outside, he pulls his phone out of his pocket to put on some music and sees the café receipt flutter to the ground as he does, and he bends over to pick it up before it blows away in the wind.

Troy. Troy is nice. Eddie doesn’t know that much about him, but he’s cute, and he’s nice, and Eddie is allowed to hang out with other guys. Richie isn’t his boyfriend.

So he puts Troy’s number into his phone before pulling open a new message, and he decides to just go for it, since he’s got nothing to lose at this point.

_E: Hey, it’s Eddie!_

_Was wondering if you’d be free tomorrow for that study date?_

_And by study date, I mean watching Khan Academy videos while I cry over numbers_

_T: Hey! Definitely free tomorrow. I’ll bring the Kleenex_

_Wanna meet up at the library? Or somewhere else?_

_E: I was actually wondering if you wanted to just come to my dorm after class._

_I have psych until 4 but we could do it after that if that works for you?_

_T: That definitely works for me._

_Just send me your campus address and I’ll be there :)_

_E: Awesome! I live in Gannet Hall, I’ll just meet you in the lobby when I get back from class :)_

_T: Can’t wait!_

Eddie feels really good about this. Troy is a sweet, nice guy. Tomorrow will be good for him.

He closes their conversation and nearly puts his phone back into his pocket, but he hesitates. And he continues to hesitate before he opens up his chat with Richie, because he _did_ say that he would text him later, after all.

_E: Was she really dead? Or was she just pretending?_

_R: Who knows? She was just some random whore_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like this chap, but if you don't and you hate it or have criticisms, let me know that too! The next chap is going to have some *Adult Content* in it and I'm sort of nervous to write it because I'm worried about how it'll be received?? Which is part of why I did a little soft sexual content in this chap because I wanna know your thoughts. 
> 
> Boys I'm such an insatiable bitch I need the attention pls feed me with it
> 
> I'm pretty good about replying to comments on here but you can always pop by my Tumblr too if you want to chat or yell at me anonymously for torturing our dear sweet angel baby this way. I'm on Tumblr way more often
> 
> Thanks for reading folks! See you soon.


	4. I want to have fun and be in love with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't care what they say about me  
> Because I know that it's l-o-v-e  
> You make me happy, you make me happy  
> And I never listen to anyone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me last chapter: BOY WHAT A BEAST 25K WORDS!!!!!!!  
> Me this chapter: I am boo boo the fool  
> (Almost 30k folks grab a fucking cup of tea and a blanket, settle in!!!!!) 
> 
> [ 'Eager to be Held' playlist for your disaster angst reading needs](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2u8K6ocYs6En71YbXDFMZ9?si=n-W6SVGmQk2m4PVTVUI8lg)
> 
> [ Come bother me on Tumblr ](https://bimmyshrug.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I’ll be honest guys writing this is taking a lot out of me. Not in a bad way, it’s a labor of love, but it’s a fuckin porker. I’m not joking when I say your lovely feedback is most of what keeps me going when I’m feeling overwhelmed by this monster of a fic. I just want so badly to get parts out to y’all because I know some of you are like actively waiting for updates. Tbh when I’m writing I keep my comments open and read them when I’m having a lull in motivation because it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside to see all of your support which makes me want to keep going. 
> 
> So thank you guys. You’re my muses, all of you. 
> 
> That being said please give me feedback because the amount of feedback I get is often directly proportional to how motivated I am to write at any given moment. I mean I’m ultimately writing this fic because I want it to be written obviously, but writing it for you guys keeps me motivated and on schedule much more effectively than my ape brain going “want read fic, must write fic, write fic hard, me go sleep.” 
> 
> I’ll shut up now and provide the TW/CW for the chap. As always please keep in mind that:  
> THE WARNINGS CONTAIN SPOILERS, PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION
> 
> /////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////  
> TW/CW: EXPLICIT CONSENSUAL SEXUAL CONTENT (blow jobs, anal fingering, ass eating), marking/biting kink, rape fetish (specifically rape fetish porn is described in detail which is technically consensual but obviously might still be triggering), Daddy kink, drug and alcohol use, rape flashbacks/aftermath, insecurities, mentions of food restriction/ disordered eating, body dysmorphia, mention of child molestation (very brief mention but its implying that being molested as a kid affects your sexuality which can be triggering), past child abuse, abusive language, homophobic language, verbal arguments, slut shaming, self-blame, masturbation, possessiveness, dom/sub dynamics, dirty talk, Richie is kinda a dick (not that y’all arent expecting that at this point) exchange of nude photos, basically Eddie hasn’t fully processed everything obv so the sexual situations might make some people uncomfortable because our boy is Not Okay
> 
> Pls guys if you’re gonna have kinky sex keep it safe sane and consensual. Our boys aren’t doing that super well here and I DO NOT condone any degradation play/ rough sex without prior establishment of limits and safe words and safe signals.  
> /////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Eddie startles awake to the sound of Mike’s voice, which wouldn’t normally be an unwelcome way of waking up, if he weren’t loudly yelling “Happy birthday!” above Eddie’s formerly sleeping body.

Eddie groans and rubs his eyes before dragging himself up to a sitting position, all while Mike continues to belt out the lyrics to “Birthday” by Katy Perry as it plays from his phone speakers.

And as much as Eddie wants to be mad about it, he can’t help laughing as he watches Mike dance around their small dorm room, clearly trying his best to make Eddie smile.

“This is the gayest thing I think I’ve ever seen you do,” Eddie finally giggles, and that seems to be enough, because Mike ceases his hip gyrations to plop down onto Eddie’s bed and tug him into a hug.

“I figured it was fitting, since you’re the gayest birthday boy I know,” Mike jokes back, and Eddie tucks into his broad chest as Mike gently rubs his back, and Eddie is already getting that yucky, heavy feeling in his belly that he gets every year on his birthday. But it sort of feels worse this year, and that fucking sucks.

“You okay, Eddie? You seem like you’ve been down lately,” Mike asks gently, still rubbing Eddie’s back, and Eddie tucks his head further into Mike’s chest before responding.

“Just having a weird week,” he offers, and he’s surprised that Mike can hear him with how muffled his voice sounds against Mike’s t shirt.

“Wanna talk about it?”

And that’s a question that Eddie isn’t sure how to answer, because he does sort of want to talk about it. But he doesn’t think talking about it is going to make it any better, so he shrugs.

“You know you can talk to me, right? If something is bothering you, you can tell me.”

Something about how earnest he sounds, or maybe how comforting and warm he is, _something_ makes Eddie consider it for long enough that he figures he can talk to Mike, because Mike is always so understanding. Mike is so kind, and Eddie is incredibly lucky to have him in his life.

“I just…I don’t know. I don’t think Richie likes me anymore.”

“Why’s that? He seemed…very into you, the last I saw you together,” Mike laughs, and Eddie pulls away from the hug to tuck his knees into his chest.

“He just- I don’t know. He hasn’t been talking to me as much, and the last time we hung out was…weird. I feel like he’s been avoiding me all week.”

“Did something happen?”

That’s a good question, for sure, but Eddie can’t tell Mike that he OD’d and prematurely ejaculated on their last date, so he goes for a half-truth.

“I just think he feels weird because I told him I’m a virgin.”

Mike takes a breath before crossing his arms over his chest, and Eddie tries not to blush when he glances up to see Mike looking right at him.

“Like he was an asshole about it?” Mike asks tightly, and Eddie starts rapidly shaking his head from side to side.

“No! No, no. The- the opposite, he was really cool about it. He was really nice about it.”

“In a creepy way?”

“No! He was really, genuinely nice about it, I swear.”

“So why do you think he feels weird about it?”

“Because- I don’t know, because he’s, like, the furthest thing from a virgin imaginable, and he’s just…he’s so cool, and interesting, and his life isn’t boring and mundane like mine. I think maybe he’s starting to realize that we aren’t compatible,” Eddie explains, though he hadn’t realized that that’s what he’s been afraid of until he says it out loud.

“Well, I mean… you guys live your lives in different ways, but that doesn’t mean that you’re incompatible, dude. If you guys like each other, you can figure out how to fit into each other’s lives,” Mike tells him with an encouraging smile, but it doesn’t do much to help, since trying to fit into Richie’s lifestyle is part of what’s been making things worse.

“I’ve been trying, but I keep fucking it up.”

“I mean, I know this is a cop-out answer, Eddie, but you really should just talk to him about it. Tell him how you feel, just be honest. That’s always the best option, instead of trying to guess how he’s feeling and making yourself miserable.”

“Oof. That sounds terrifying.”

“Being honest usually is when you’re afraid of what truths you might have to face.”

Eddie tries really hard not to be shitty about his birthday, but it only lasts until halfway through breakfast when Bill asks him what he’s planning on doing for the fourth time.

“Wanna go buy a carton of cigarettes? Or… a whole roll of lottery tickets? Wanna register to vote?” he asks, and it’s friendly and it’s nice but Eddie just. Doesn’t want to do this today.

“No, I’m good. To be completely honest, guys, I kind of want to just…pretend it’s not my birthday, if that’s okay? Please?” he asks, stirring his omelet around more than he’s actually eating any of it. None of them say anything for a long moment so Eddie glances up, and wishes he hadn’t as soon as he sees matching concerned looks on all of their faces.

He rolls his eyes before he remembers not to and drops his fork onto his plate, feeling all of his patience leave him in a huff. “Look. I don’t like my birthday. Never have. I don’t ever celebrate it. The last birthday I really, properly celebrated was when I was, like, 5, before my dad died. Birthdays are sort of just…a sore spot for me, okay? I don’t want to celebrate. I don’t want to do anything special. So can you guys please, please just drop it?”

“Are you doing okay, Eddie?” Stan asks gently, and Eddie feels his skin crawl in irritation.

“Yes, Stan, I’m fine. I’m dandy, okay? I’m really, really just great. So can we forget about this, please? For the love of fuck, just drop it. I’m over it. It’s just a fucking day, it’ll be over in 16 hours, and then we can all move on.”

“If that’s what you want,” Stan says slowly, but he exchanges a meaningful look with Mike, and Eddie is going to fucking explode.

“I’m going to spend my day like any other fucking Monday, then I’m going to go home and do homework and go the fuck to sleep. Then I’ll wake up tomorrow and still be the same fucking person I was yesterday,” he grumbles, and then he remembers that he invited Troy over this afternoon, and he really wishes he hadn’t. It was a stupid, impulsive decision to try to make Richie jealous, and it seems like all he’s done is create more stress for himself. He groans out loud, burying his face into his hands at the realization.

“You good?”

“Yes, Mike. I’m just- I have a study date this afternoon, so- so if you guys don’t want to be there for it, I’d suggest not hanging around the dorm after 4 this afternoon.”

“With Richie?” Mike asks, and it almost sounds hopeful, but Eddie shakes his head after lifting it up from his palms.

“No, with this guy from my pre-calc class. I ran into him yesterday at the café and he bought me a coffee and asked if I wanted to do homework together. And I didn’t anticipate how antisocial I was going to feel today, so I invited him over after I get out of psych. I honestly might cancel-“

“No!” Stan interrupts, and Eddie narrows his eyes at him. “Don’t do that. You should have him over, I can help you guys if you need it. It’ll be good for you to do something social, regardless of it being your birthday.”

“I guess so,” Eddie sighs, then takes a few breaths, trying to chill himself out. He knows he’s being a bitch. A bitch for no reason, honestly, because his friends are behaving very normally, and he’s the one being a massive dick because it’s his birthday and because he ruined his chance with Richie, and that’s not fair.

“Guys, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be an asshole. I’m just- it’s just a tough time for me.”

“It’s okay, Eddie. I get it, my dad hates his birthday too,” Bill shrugs, and that’s the end of the conversation, much to Eddie’s relief.

And he knows, he _knows_ it’s extremely unreasonable for him to be angry about this considering that he told Richie he hates celebrating his birthday, but he is absolutely pissed by the time his pre-calc class rolls around, and Richie still hasn’t texted him to say “happy birthday.” He hasn’t texted him at all today, actually, and that’s worse in some ways.

So Eddie is really, really not in the mood when he walks into his pre-calc lecture hall. It’s a big class, there’s nearly one hundred students in it, and Eddie wants to fucking snap all of their necks as soon as he walks inside. He throws himself into a seat and takes out his notebook, loudly blaring music in his headphones as he waits for the lecture to start so that he doesn’t have to listen to the other students chattering happily amongst themselves, blissfully unaware of the seemingly permanent pity party that Eddie has decided to throw for himself.

He nearly hisses like a fucking cat when he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder, and he must radiate the same sort of hostility, because Troy has his hands raised in a placating gesture when Eddie whips his head around to look at him.

He lowers his hackles after a moment and pulls his headphones out of his ears, sighing softly. “Sorry. Hi.”

“Hey there. You uh…doing okay? Rough day?” Troy asks carefully, sliding into the seat next to Eddie without even _asking._

“Roughest day of the year.”

“The Monday after elections? Because normally I’d agree but I don’t think one will ever be worse than 2016, so unless you’re really torn up about the Bangor city council turnout, I’m at a loss.”

Eddie tries to laugh, or smile, or something, but all he can manage is a grimace. “It’s my birthday.”

Troy looks confused for a moment before he shrugs, bending over to get his notebook from his backpack. “I won’t ask, you don’t seem like you want to talk about it.”

Eddie is shocked silent for a moment and watches Troy flip his notebook over to a blank page and uncap his pen, scribbling the date at the top of the page before glancing back over at Eddie.

“Uh- Um. Yeah, yes. Thank you,” He stammers out, opening his own notebook as their professor starts to pull up her PowerPoint presentation.

“No problem.”

And they spend 50 minutes in silent bliss, quietly scribbling down information that neither of them understand. And Troy really doesn’t ask, and doesn’t bring it up again, and Eddie is so weirdly appreciative of that.

“So are we still on for 4?” Troy asks once they’re packing up their things after class, and this time Eddie gives him a genuine smile.

“Yeah! Definitely.”

“Cool, see you then!” Troy smiles and waves cheerfully at him and walks away, and Eddie is captivated by how normal and _polite_ he is. He watches him walk away before he finishes shoving his stuff into his backpack to walk to his psych lecture, still thinking about Troy’s seemingly permanent grin, and how kind he is. Which is weird, because he doesn’t even know Eddie, but he’s so _nice._

Eddie almost ignores it when his phone starts vibrating in his pocket, but he’s got a couple of minutes before he has to be in the lecture hall, so he decides to just check and see who it is. Which is maybe a mistake, because if it’s his mom, he’s going to have a meltdown.

Luckily it’s just Richie, so Eddie still has a meltdown, but it’s short-lived before he accepts the call and presses his phone to his ear, ducking to the side of the building to get out of the way of students entering the building. And, truthfully, to avoid Stan, just in case he’s looking for Eddie on his way inside.

“Hey, happy totally normal day to you,” Richie says casually, and Eddie rolls his eyes despite being fully aware of the fact that Richie can’t see him.

“Why thank you, how kind.”

“Have anything average planned for this most average of days?”

“Nope, just class and studying, like I told you yesterday.”

“Oh come on, you’re seriously still gonna hang out with that dude? What kind of lame ass, boring ass guy asks to do homework on a first date?” Richie asks playfully; or, at least, that’s probably what he’s going for. It sounds sort of hostile.

“Not a date, we’re just hanging out to study,” Eddie huffs, and Richie laughs, and Eddie wishes he were here so that he’d have something to punch.

“Right. Do you know how many study dates I’ve had that didn’t end with someone’s cock in someone else’s mouth? One, at the library with you yesterday.”

“Yeah, well, then my track record is pretty good so far. Not everyone is a sex-crazed, testosterone-driven Neanderthal like you, so,” Eddie tries to joke, but it bites much more harshly than he means for it to. Richie still laughs.

“All I’m saying is, the first time I was alone with you, I was practicing some serious self-restraint.”

“This might come as a shock to you, but not every person in my immediate vicinity views me as a boy Lolita,” Eddie snips, and he isn’t even sure _why,_ because Richie is just being flirtatious like he always is. Why the fuck is it pissing him off so much right now?

“Or so they’d like you to believe.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m just looking out for you, baby doll. I don’t like it when you play with other boys, but I know your heart still belongs to Daddy.”

“Can you, like, pick one?” Eddie finally snaps. “Being possessive and distant at the same time isn’t really a vibe.”

“You’re right, I should come around later to scare him off.”

“Not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean, sweetheart?”

Eddie pauses, trying to swallow down his anger so that he doesn’t scream into the phone. He sort of manages. “I mean that it would be chill if you could stop sending me the world’s most mixed fucking signals and tell me what the fuck is going on with you. I would really love to be clued in on what the fuck is making you so all over the place with me lately, because I’m too sensitive for this shit, and I’m over it, and I need you to be fucking real with me.”

Richie is quiet on the line for a moment before he sighs, and Eddie’s heart flutters hopefully.

“Yeah, okay. Yeah. You’re right. I’m sorry. I know I’ve been an asshole lately. I’m really not meaning to. But you’re right, we should probably have a talk.”

Well, that hope was extremely short-lived, and now Eddie can’t breathe.

“A- A talk? What- What does that entail?”

“Just being real, like you said.”

“Okay, well- well when do you want to do that, because I- I can cancel on Troy if you want to talk when I’m out of class, I can just tell him-“

“No, don’t do that. It’s cool, we’ll figure it out. Enjoy the rest of your day, baby doll. Have fun on your study date. Hope you guys can learn something from each other.”

Eddie wants to fucking beg. Not that he’s normally above begging, but he’s never swung so violently from ‘I’m ready to punch you in the face’ to ‘Please don’t leave me, I’m vulnerable’ this quickly in his life, and his brain is seconds from shutting down.

“O-Okay, well, um, well please- please let me know when we can talk? Soon? Please?”

“I will. You should head into your class, it’s five past.”

“Um, yeah. Right. Okay. Um. Text me?”

“Will do. Bye, Eds.”

“Bye.”

Why the fuck did he answer the fucking phone. Eddie truthfully, truthfully feels like he’s going to fucking explode if he tries to go sit in lecture right now, but Richie said he would tell him when they can meet soon. Soon, which probably means tomorrow. And he can wait until tomorrow. He can do that.

By the time he and Stan are walking out of the lecture hall, Eddie is absolutely sure that he cannot, in fact, wait until tomorrow. He feels like he’s fucking vibrating, and he keeps checking his phone, and Stan catches on after the third time that Eddie pulls his phone out of his pocket, glances at his lock screen, and puts it back.

“Are you waiting for an important call?” Stan asks softly, and Eddie startles a bit, because he truthfully forgot that Stan has been walking next to him this whole time.

“Um. Just… been getting phone calls from family a lot today. As I should have expected, I guess,” Eddie lies, because he doesn’t talk to any of his family anymore. He doesn’t know how to contact his dad’s side, and his mom’s side disowned him when she did.

“Yeah, understandable. Get a call from your mom?”

“Thankfully no, and hoping to keep it that way,” Eddie sighs, already regretting this lie, because it’s sparking a different conversation that he doesn’t want to have.

“Hopefully she’ll know that you want to be left alone.”

Yeah, hopefully, but sort of also hopefully not. Because Eddie really fucking misses her, and that sucks so fucking much. Because she’s a horrible, horrible, terrible person and an even worse mother. And he knows that. But it fucking hurts. It hurts that she doesn’t care about him anymore at all. Doesn’t care enough to call him on his birthday. But he’s not her son anymore; she made that very, very clear.

_You’re confused, Eddie. You’re just confused._

_I didn’t raise a faggot, Edward._

_We can get you help. You’re sick, Eddie. We can get you better._

_Do you know how disappointed your father would be? I’m glad he passed on before he had to see what you’ve become._

_This is because someone touched you when you were little, isn’t it? You can tell me. Was it Uncle Roger? Uncle Roger touched you, didn’t he?_

_How could you do this to me, Eddie?_

“Hopefully.”

He tries to muster up some semblance of cheerfulness before they get back to the dorm, but he still can’t manage a smile when they walk into the lobby to see Troy standing there, reading the pamphlets on the bulletin board as he waits.

“That’s him?” Stan whispers as they get closer, and Eddie nods. “Jesus, he’s…wow. He’s super hot.”

“Richie called him Michael B. Jordan,” Eddie snorts out a laugh, and Stan tilts his head with a thoughtful hum.

“I mean… yeah,” he states eloquently, and Eddie laughs again, which captures Troy’s attention.

“Hey, there you are!” he greets cheerfully, and Eddie is thankful for the easy smile that spreads across his lips.

“Hey! This is my friend Stan, he’s, like, actually good at math. He’s an accounting major. So if we get too stuck, he can help.”

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m Troy,” he introduces himself, and Eddie can see the tips of Stan’s ears blushing red, despite the very calm and collected expression on his face.

“Nice to meet you, too. Always a pleasure to meet Eddie’s friends.”

Eddie realizes that he didn’t exactly plan this out very well once they get back up to the dorm, because there are 3 very tall men, one tall man, and himself all shoved into a room together. He was going to try to set up a workstation at his desk for the two of them, but Bill is using the other desk chair as Mike and Stan are spread out on Mike’s bed.

“We can just sit on my bed, if that’s okay?” Eddie offers, and Troy gives an unbothered shrug before toeing off his boots and sitting cross-legged with his back against the wall next to Eddie’s bed. Eddie climbs on after him and seats himself next to him, and suddenly, his twin bed feels even tinier than it normally does.

He pulls his study materials out of his backpack and nearly just shoves his phone into his backpack before he stows it on the ground, but he can’t help looking first.

And what he sees is a text from Richie, and god dammit. God fucking dammit, he just wants to fucking focus on math and forget about this for five fucking minutes.

_R: I really do care about you, Eddie. I hope you know that._

He wants to text back so badly, but he knows that if he does, he’s not going to be able to stop himself from saying ‘fuck it’ and leaving to make the trek across campus to talk to Richie. So he forces himself to put his phone away and focus on schoolwork instead.

And boy, is that not going well. Everything they look at feels like it’s all melted together, and Troy seems like he’s having just as hard of a time as Eddie is. He keeps rubbing at his forehead with his thumb, and biting his lip when he writes and erases and writes again, and Eddie doesn’t know why he’s noticing these things. But he is.

“So…so if we’re dividing a by b, and we’re trying to find the unique quotient polynomial in the equation, then that means the remainder polynomial has to be-“

“I’m just- I’m gonna stop you right there, I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” Eddie sighs miserably, slamming his hands down onto his textbook. “This is- honestly, this is fucking homophobic, gays can’t do math,” he grumbles, and Troy bursts out laughing, which makes Eddie start laughing too.

“Is that why I’m so bad at math?” he asks through laughter, and Eddie sort of _knew,_ but hearing him say that he’s gay out loud has Eddie blushing across his cheeks.

“No, I’m good at math,” Stan replies casually, typing away on his laptop from Mike’s bed.

“Yeah, but you’re pan, so…” Eddie gives an unconvinced shrug. “Might be an advantage.”

“Can confirm, I’m super bad at math, so the theory checks out,” Mike chimes in, hanging his head over the edge of his bed as he reads something on his phone. 

“Counter point; I’m terrible at math and also not gay,” Bill offers, and Stan giggles, pressing his toes into Bill’s thigh where they’re now seated on the floor together in front of Mike’s bed.

“I think it’s an ‘every square is a rectangle but not every rectangle is a square’ type of situation. I’m sure there are plenty of straights who are also terrible at math.”

“Prove it.”

“Can’t, don’t know any straight people.”

They’re all still laughing and joking when Eddie’s phone starts ringing, this time on full volume, so he knows it’s not Richie, because it’s just playing his default ringtone. An anxious little bubble forms in his chest, and it gets bigger when he looks at his phone and sees that he’s getting a call from Derry.

His silence must give something away, because the other four men in the room fall silent as well as Eddie debates answering his phone or not. But ultimately, he ends up accepting the call and presses his phone to his ear before he can remind himself of all of the reasons why this is a terrible idea.

“Hello?” he asks softly, and he can already tell it’s his mother from the weight of the silence before she speaks.

“Hello, Eddie.”

“Um, hey mom.”

“Figured I should give you a call and see how you’ve been.”

“Um, I’ve been good, been… been busy with school,” Eddie says carefully, because he hasn’t had a real conversation with her in nearly half a year, and he has absolutely no idea where she stands emotionally right now, given that she slapped him across the face the last time he saw her and told him that she wished he’d never been birthed from her.

“Well, that’s good. Staying busy with school will keep you from doing things you shouldn’t be while you’re away,” she starts already, and Eddie holds in a sigh.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Have you thought about what we discussed?” she asks tightly, and Eddie truthfully doesn’t know what she’s talking about for a moment.

“You mean about me coming home for Christmas?”

“Yes, you know what I expect from you if you’re planning to be allowed back into my house.”

“I… I can’t do that, ma.”

There’s a long pause, and Eddie knows he should have left the fucking room before having this conversation, because even though the other four men in the room are politely having a friendly, hushed conversation and pretending that he isn’t on the phone, he know things are going to escalate. He should have known, he should always know. So dumb.

“Why are you doing this to me, Eddie? Haven’t you had enough time to…to get whatever this is out of your system? It’s time to let it go now.” She sounds desperate, she’s _pleading._ Eddie knows it’s an act, but it still pulls at his heart.

“Mom, I- I’m not getting anything out of my system. I’m really happy here. And…and you don’t have to support me, but I can’t pretend that I’m not gay just because-“

“Don’t. Do not say that to me,” she snaps, and Eddie shuts his mouth. “Where did I go wrong, hmm? What did I do to deserve this? Was I such a horrible mother to you that you’re so willing to hurt me this way? I think I’ve been rather patient with you, Eddie. I let you go off to school, I let you go even though I knew it was a terrible choice for you, and this is how you’re going to speak to me?”

“Mom, I can’t do this right now. Please.”

“Did you run off to college and find more of _them_ to pair up with? Is that it? Have you just spent this whole time running around with a bunch of degenerate faggots that are encouraging you to believe you’re one of them?”

Rage burns through him so suddenly that he can taste acid in his mouth, and he knows he should stop himself before saying whatever is about to come out of his mouth, but he can’t. “Yep, exactly, ma! I’m in a room full of degenerate faggots right now, actually. Gotta get back to my busy schedule of sucking cock and taking it up the ass, so thanks for calling, but I’m gonna go now.”

“You disgust me.”

Eddie doesn’t even hit ‘end call’ before his phone is soaring across the room where it hits the wall with a _thud,_ and he’s screaming, and then he remembers that Troy is in the room, which is what finally makes him stop. Because the trio seeing him devolve into a mess is normal, but Troy doesn’t know him like that, and he’s going to think Eddie is insane.

Once he goes silent, every eye in the room is glued to him, and he wants to fucking scream again. Scream at them for fucking being in the room, for being queers, for making friends with him and making him want to stay at college. For making him feel nearly normal for the first time in his life.

He’s trying to think of something to say to excuse his outburst when Troy shoves all of their pre-calculus books and notebooks and worksheets onto the floor before hugging Eddie around the shoulders, and Eddie wants to shove him away or reject the comfort, because he’s fucking mad. He’s not upset, he’s _mad,_ and he doesn’t want a fucking hug. He wants to go make the dent that his phone left in the wall into a fucking hole with his fists.

But then he’s crying into Troy’s shoulder, and he can’t tell if it’s better when all of the anger leaves him in a rush and he collapses against the other man, gripping his t shirt in his fists as he wails. But he knows he can’t stop, so he doesn’t try to.

He’s vaguely aware of the trio coming over to cautiously approach his space, but he doesn’t have the energy to tell them that yes they can or no they can’t or please hold me or leave me alone, so he doesn’t. He just cries, and Stan climbs onto the bed behind him, running his fingernails up and down Eddie’s back while he sobs.

Once he calms down, he doesn’t peel away from Troy right away, mostly because this is one of the most embarrassing and pathetic things he’s ever done, and he doesn’t really want to look at Troy’s horrified expression at Eddie having a full-fledged meltdown the first time that they’ve ever hung out. So he stays buried in his shoulder, just sniffling for a minute before he pulls away, blinking up at him.

And he looks _concerned._ And that makes Eddie feel bad. He wishes he looked horrified, or embarrassed, or sketched out. But he doesn’t.

“I’m so sorry,” he manages to croak out, and Troy drops his arms from around Eddie’s shoulders and starts shaking his head.

“Please don’t be sorry, Eddie. I’m sorry that your mom made you so upset,” he says earnestly, and Eddie believes him.

“Yeah, well, I shouldn’t have answered the fucking phone. I learned my lesson the hard way,” he jokes, and he lets out a burst of hysterical laughter that has him crying again, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, and Eddie shakes his head.

“Okay. Let me know if you do.”

And that’s all he says. And when Eddie turns to look at the trio, they look so despaired, and he just doesn’t want to be the object of everyone’s fucking pity right now. He just really, really can’t handle it right now.

“You, um…you smashed your phone up pretty good,” Bill offers gently, handing Eddie his phone. The case is completely destroyed, which he expected, but the glass in the screen is cracked, and he definitely fucked the LCD screen too, so that’s cool. That’s great.

He brushes off the broken glass and it still works, so whatever, he’ll figure it out later. He just wants to fucking be asleep now, more than anything.

“Is there anything you need, Eddie?” Stan asks gently, scratching his fingernails against Eddie’s scalp, and it feels nice, but Eddie just wants them to go away.

“I just- I want to be alone, please, if that’s okay. I just want to be by myself, please,” he asks softly, and he’s nearly surprised when all of them start slowing removing themselves from his space to gather their things, clearly trying not to disturb Eddie where he’s lying down on his bed and facing the wall.

“Bye, Eddie. Let me know if you want to talk, okay?” Troy says softly, and Eddie glances up at him before he closes his eyes again and gives him a small nod.

“Will do. Sorry I had a breakdown the first time we hung out. I’d like to say this isn’t a common occurrence for me, but that would be a lie, so.”

“Good thing I have such good shoulders to cry on, all that training won’t go to waste after all,” he jokes, and Eddie lets out a little giggle.

“Keep up the good work. Gotta keep those hugging muscles toned too, you’ll be using them a lot if you decide to hang around my disastrous gay ass.”

“In that case, I’ll start bulking up.”

“Thank you, Troy. Seriously. I appreciate you being so…” Eddie hesitates, unable to find the word he wants to use. “So nice.”

“Any time, Eddie. Text me?”

“I will.”

“See you.”

“Bye.”

After he leaves, he closes his eyes again and faces the wall, and he almost startles when he feels Stan’s weight on the edge of his mattress.

“You sure you want to be alone?” he asks softly, and Eddie hates how he talks to him like a wounded animal, but it’s not like he can blame him. He sort of is one right now.

“Please.”

“Okay, well…well if you need anything, please text me, okay? Or Mike, or Bill.”

“I will.”

“Stan’s roommate is gone for the night so I’m just gonna stay there, okay? I want to give you as much space as you need. We’ll just see you at lunch tomorrow,” Mike tells him, and Eddie is so appreciative of that.

“Thank you so much, Mikey. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Eddie.”

“Let us know if you need anything, okay?” Bill echoes, and Eddie just nods this time, because he’s too tired to talk anymore.

He listens to them leave before he pulls his jeans off and tucks himself under his blankets, and he wants to just go to sleep, but he likes punishing himself, so he checks his phone again. And he has another text from Richie, and he’s really starting to wonder what he did to the universe to deserve all of this, for fuck’s sake.

_R: Done with your study date yet? We can meet up rn if you want._

_E: I just want to be alone right now._

Eddie puts his phone on mute and doesn’t wait for a reply, shoving his broken phone under his pillow before he succumbs to a depression nap. He thinks he’s earned it, at this point.

He isn’t sure if he even falls asleep all the way or just lingers in that weird, trippy limbo between sleep and wakefulness for a few hours, but either way, it’s a nice escape from the shit storm of reality that’s piling up around him everywhere.

Besides, he loves being in this place between consciousness and sleep, where he has one million ideas that disperse like mist when he tries to grab onto them, and he sees tiny vignettes behind his eyes of mundane things with peculiar details changed, like going to eat lunch with Stan, but what they’re eating is a raw pile of meat, or sitting in his biology class while his professor’s head gives his lecture from a box sitting on the podium. And then his body quickly picks consciousness and they disappear again, and he starts over, creating little universes in his head to get snatched away by wakefulness each time he forces his eyes open.

That’s why he’s not entirely sure that he isn’t hallucinating when he starts to hear music playing softly from- from somewhere. He thinks it’s coming from inside of his head at first, but even after forcing himself awake by opening his eyes and sitting up in his bed, he hears it playing from somewhere nearby.

He stumbles out of bed to investigate and clicks on his desk lamp, and that’s the final push toward full consciousness he needs to deduce that it’s coming from out in the hallway.

He rubs the bleariness out of his eyes as he makes his way to the door, and his ears strain to pick up the lyrics to whatever song is playing as they come muffled through the door.

_I've come to wish you an unhappy birthday  
I've come to wish you an unhappy birthday  
'Cos you're evil  
And you lie  
And if you should die  
I may feel slightly sad  
But I won't cry_

He pulls the door open to see Richie standing there with a small speaker and a bag in his hands, and it takes him a moment to catch up to speed.

“What’s- what are you doing here?” he asks groggily as Richie looks him up and down, and he’s sure he looks like a complete and total disaster after crying and almost sleeping for hours, but he steps aside and lets Richie into the room anyway.

“Well, I’ve got The Smiths, I’ve got Chinese food, and I’ve got _16 Candles._ I figure if you’re gonna be miserable and have an anti-birthday, you should do it the right way,” Richie explains, pulling his supplies out of his backpack to place them onto Eddie’s desk. “Oh, also made you this. I figured a brownie gives off the weakest birthday vibes of any baked good, so,” he shrugs, and hands Eddie a tupperware container.

Eddie looks down into it to see a brownie cut and decorated into the shape of a coffin. “One year closer to death!” is written in icing on the front, along with a little skull and crossbones and a cluster of flowers.

His head snaps up to see Richie pulling the DVD for _16 Candles_ out of its case and sliding it into the disk drive on his laptop, and Eddie is suddenly extremely overwhelmed.

“I- you- you made this for me? You did this for me?” he asks softly, and Richie laughs, moving to pull Eddie into a hug after placing the brownie onto his desk.

“Of course, baby doll. I know you don’t want to celebrate, but I wanted to spend time with you, and I figured I could use your extreme disdain for birthdays as an excuse to come over and watch angsty 80s teen movies and eat Chinese food with you.”

“I- Richie- I’m not- I don’t-“ Eddie starts crying, fucking _again,_ and Richie tucks him into his chest, petting a comforting hand through his hair.

“If you want me to leave, I will, baby. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay, more than anything.”

And Eddie wants to say that he very much isn’t okay, and that he’s overwhelmed, and that he spent all day panicking that Richie was going to tell him that he never wants to speak again, and that this is not at all how he anticipated his birthday ending. But instead he hugs Richie back, and he manages to hold back his tears, for once.

“I haven’t had Chinese food in forever,” he says softly into Richie’s chest, and Richie chuckles, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s forehead before moving to set up his laptop on Eddie’s desk in a way that will allow them to see it clearly from his bed.

“I hope it’s not because you hate it, because I was considering going for Italian instead, and I’m gonna be pissed if I chose wrong.”

“No! No, I- I love Chinese food. It’s just so-“

“Nuh-uh, no. We’re not talking about calories and saturated fat and triglycerides and whatever. We’re gonna stuff our fucking faces full of MSG and look at Michael Schoeffling for an hour and a half and pretend that everything is right in the world,” Richie says firmly, and Eddie can’t help cracking a smile at that before allowing himself to be tugged down onto his bed. Richie sits next to Eddie, so close that their thighs are pressed together, and pulls his comforter up around their laps before reaching over to grab the paper bag of food.

He hands Eddie a pair of chopsticks and a box of lo mein before grabbing his own, and he presses ‘play’ on his laptop before settling in next to Eddie.

“Your laptop has a disc drive? Is it 2008?” Eddie jokes softly, and Richie scoffs.

“I’m a DJ, dickhead. Not having a disc drive is a fucking pain in the ass. Sorry I don’t buy into the minimalistic bullshit that Apple is trying to push onto us with their useless ass products that you have to buy accessories for in order for them to be functional,” he gripes, and Eddie genuinely laughs at that while breaking apart his chopsticks.

“You just like to be a contrarian.”

“Oh yeah? Do you enjoy not being able to use headphones while you’re charging your phone? Is that, like a desired feature? Because I personally love being able to, you know, use two completely different functions on my phone that shouldn’t affect one another in any way at the same time. But hey, maybe that’s just me,” Richie jokes while elbowing Eddie playfully on the arm, and Eddie elbows him back before he remembers that he broke his fucking phone earlier, and he groans.

“I didn’t elbow you that hard, drama queen.”

“Not that, you dick,” Eddie mumbles, stabbing his chopsticks into the mess of noodles inside his takeout box. “I broke my phone today. Well, it still works fine. But I smashed the screen.”

“Oof, how’d you manage to do that?”

Eddie sighs and considers lying, but honestly, he doesn’t want to. “Just an old classic. Mom called me, told me I’m a disgusting faggot, the usual. Got really upset and hucked my phone at the wall, all right in front of this dude who knows nothing about me aside from how much of a disaster I am. It just be like that,” he finishes with a mock air of casualness, and Richie huffs.

“I honestly, straight up want to hit your mom. Which is weird, because I don’t think I’ve ever really wanted to hit somebody’s mom before, but every time you talk about her I just want to fucking…” Richie trails off and makes a strangling motion with his hands, and Eddie laughs through a mouthful of noodles.

“Yeah, well, I might have to tuck my tail and go begging for her forgiveness, because I don’t have anywhere to go for winter break.”

Richie goes quiet, gently stabbing around in his noodles for a moment before speaking again. “So…so you don’t have a place to go for the holidays?”

“Nope, or the month-long break, so that’ll be a fun problem to find a solution to last minute when I inevitably put it off until the week before finals,” Eddie grumbles, shoving a heap of noodles into his mouth.

“Well- Well if you need a place to stay, or want help finding one, let me know. Okay?” he says softly, and Eddie struggles to swallow his mouthful of noodles around the lump in his throat.

“You mean that?” he eventually manages to whisper out, and Richie turns his head to smile softly at him.

“Of course.”

By the time the movie is nearly half over, Eddie has eaten an entire box of lo mein on his own, as well as an eggroll and some beef teriyaki. And he sort of wants to feel disgusted with himself, but it’s hard to when Richie beams at him every time he reaches for something else to eat.

But eventually he does reach the point where he can’t eat anymore, and Richie tuts, reaching for his unbirthday brownie. “Gotta have dessert.”

“No, I’m so full,” Eddie whines, and Richie breaks the brownie in half, holding the smaller piece out to Eddie.

“Just a bite? I worked so hard on it,” he pouts, and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“It’s probably just from a box.”

“Yeah, but I put a lot of heart into decorating it!”

“Ugh, fine,” Eddie agrees, taking the piece of brownie from Richie’s fingers.

“Unhappy birthday. Wish a curse on someone’s family or household,” Richie says cheerfully, and Eddie rolls his eyes, but he can’t help giggling.

“I put a curse on my mom and hope that her basement floods so bad this year that she has to move out of that prison house so I never have to see it again. And…I put a hex on my pre-calc professor so that her car will break down on her way to proctor our exam next week. And, um…I put a curse on you, for being such a dickhead to me lately. I hope all your hair falls out before you’re 30.”

“Okay first of all, it’s not a fucking genie, you don’t get to pick three. Second, that’s the fucking cruelest thing anyone has ever said to me,” Richie laughs before eating his part of the brownie, and Eddie shrugs before shoving his half into his mouth as well.

“Yeah, well, shoulda thought twice before being a big ol’ pile of dick skin to me all week,” Eddie shrugs, and Richie sighs, turning to face Eddie fully.

“So is that your segue into saying you want to talk now?”

“Maybe, but I’m terrified of this conversation, so be gentle.”

Richie sighs again, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. Eddie wants to screech at him not to fucking do that because he’s going to lodge his contacts behind his fucking eyeballs, but he holds it in and waits for Richie to look at him.

“I just….I’m sorry for being weird lately. I just don’t know how to handle a lot of this stuff, Eddie. Like… I don’t know. I feel like I dragged you into shit that you shouldn’t have been dragged into, and I feel _bad._ You didn’t ask for your life to be complicated by me, and I feel like all I’ve done is bring negative shit into your life. And I wanted to give you the opportunity to run the other way before it inevitably gets worse, because my life is…is complicated.”

Eddie takes a moment to consider this before responding. “Well….well so is mine. My life is super complicated too. And everything you’ve brought into my life isn’t anything I didn’t ask for. I’m a big boy, a whole 18 years old now. And if I didn’t want to be involved in certain aspects of your life, I wouldn’t be. I think it’s pretty unfair for you to take that choice away from me.”

“I’m not trying to take it away from you, I’m sorry. I just got freaked out after…after last time. You’re just so…” Richie pauses, looking over Eddie’s face carefully. “You’re so pure and good and I don’t want to muddy that with all of my bullshit. I’m not a good person, Eddie. And you’re, like, a literal angel.”

“Not true. You are a good person. If you weren’t a good person, you wouldn’t be here right now,” Eddie argues, but Richie looks unconvinced.

“Yeah, well, this is one good thing out of a shit heap of awful things I’ve done.”

“I’ve done bad stuff too. Everybody has. Everyone in the world does stupid, dumb shit that they regret. That doesn’t mean you’re a horrible person, Richie. You’re not a bad person because of how you like to live your life.” Richie looks him over in that careful way again, and Mike’s earlier words come to Eddie’s mind. “We live different lifestyles, but that doesn’t mean we can’t find ways to fit into each other’s lives if we want to.”

Richie smiles softly at him, and Eddie’s heart is trying to claw its way out of his chest to rip Riche’s ribcage open and tuck itself into his chest next to his own.

“Who knew the jailbait was so mature and insightful?”

“Yeah, well, you should try not perpetually having the maturity level of a 13 year old boy and the emotional depth of his cum sock sometime,” Eddie bites, and Richie laughs so hard that he collapses into Eddie’s lap, still huffing laughter out against his leg.

“Holy shit, put me in my place, Daddy,” he eventually gets out between giggles, and Eddie flicks him on the forehead before brushing his hair back with his fingers, gently working through the tangles with his nails.

“I’d have to do some serious maneuvering to get you over my knee, but I will if I have to.”

Richie hugs around Eddie’s thighs before settling his head back into Eddie’s lap, and Eddie feels like he’s going to explode into a cloud of fondness.

“Sooo… I know I was sort of a dick about it earlier, but did your study date go well?”

“You mean aside from destroying my phone in a fit of gay rage? Yeah, went pretty okay. I think I learned some stuff, sort of.”

“So Killmonger didn’t steal you away from me?”

“Not quite. He’s not my type. He’s too, you know, nice and polite and well-mannered. Keeps his hands to himself. I’m more into guys that I want to punch in the mouth every time they speak.”

“I’m not sure why you threatening me just made my dick hard, but I’m into it if that’s an avenue you want to explore.”

“If I get to punch you whenever you piss me off, I don’t particularly care if you get off on it or not.”

“Seriously, I’m gonna fucking pre in my jeans.”

“I hate you.”

“You wish you could.”

They end up maneuvering themselves around to somehow lie down together in Eddie’s tiny bed, which is really more just Richie lying down with Eddie lying on top of him. But it’s nice, and Eddie listens more to the sound of Richie’s heartbeat than he does the movie, and he eventually finds himself drifting off, despite his best efforts to keep his eyes open.

He rouses from sleep when he feels Richie sliding out from underneath him and he whines, trying to hug him tighter around the middle so that he doesn’t get up from the bed.

“Baby doll, I have to go home. It’s late, I’ve got class at 9,” he chuckles softly, and Eddie pouts, squeezing his eyes shut tighter and refusing to let up his grip.

“No.”

“Sweetheart, if I try to stay in this tiny ass bed with you for much longer, I actually think my legs will fall off and my back is going to give out.”

“Get a shorter body.”

“I’ll work on it, but for now, you gotta let me up.”

Eddie groans and leans up, allowing Richie to move out from under him. He opens his eyes, but it’s nearly pitch dark in the room, and he instinctively grabs onto Richie’s shirt.

“Richie?” he pleads, and it sounds so desperate that he gets embarrassed.

“I’m right here baby,” he says softly before pressing a soft kiss to Eddie’s lips, and Eddie relaxes immediately. He leans up to kiss Richie again but misses a little bit in the dark, landing more next to his mouth than on his lips. Richie slides a gentle hand into his hair before kissing him properly, and Eddie’s sleepy brain tingles in his skull at the sensation of their lips moving together for the first time in what feels like forever.

“Can we- can we hang out tomorrow?” Eddie mumbles softly once they separate, and Richie sighs, pausing before he responds.

“Um, yeah. There’s another get together at OGR if you want to tag along with me. Just… something sort of…sort of small.”

Eddie is already nodding off again and Richie jostles him a little, and Eddie makes a sleepy noise in his throat. “Kay, sounds fun,” he agrees, though he isn’t really sure what Richie even said. But he knows that he said yes, he said that they can hang out, and that’s what’s important.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay? Get some sleep,” Richie says softly after a moment, and Eddie nods against his neck before allowing Richie to stand from his bed. He lies back down as he hears Richie zip his backpack up and pull his boots on, and he’s already nearly half asleep by the time he hears Richie making his way to the door.

“Night Richie,” Eddie mumbles sleepily, tucking himself back into his blankets.

“Good night, baby.”

Eddie sees the light from the hallway glow orange behind his eyelids, and he cracks his eyes open just in time to see Richie’s silhouette disappear behind the door.

He figured he’d be more upset about waking up alone, but when he wakes up in the morning, he still feels so warm and tingly all over remembering the night before. He glances at his phone to check the time and groans again at the reminder that he fucked the screen up so badly yesterday, but honestly, he’s not going to let it get him down. Last night was so, so good. So much better than he thought.

He feels like a different person, almost, with how cheerful and content he is compared to yesterday. It’s weird that Mike isn’t here, but honestly, it’s kind of nice, too. Nice to have the room to himself so he can take his time getting ready and bask in the afterglow of what was the best birthday he’s probably ever had in his 18 years of life.

After he’s showered and dressed for the day, he considers texting the trio to see if they’re going to get breakfast, since he has so much time to kill. But he sort of wants to just be alone. Not in the way he wanted to be alone yesterday; this is more of a contented aloneness, and he wants to capitalize on it while it lasts.

He notices that Richie left his laptop on his desk and he rolls his eyes, picking it up and bringing it over to his bed. He’s surprised to see that it still has half of its battery left when the backlight turns on, and he snaps a picture of it (with his thankfully unbroken camera) before texting it to Richie. He knows there’s no way Richie is awake by now, but he’ll definitely want to come get it before class.

_E: Leaving your shit in my room so you have an excuse to come see me again?_

He tosses his phone onto his bed after he presses send and clicks the button to remove the DVD from the drive to place it back into its case, and he really, really can’t help noticing that Richie’s laptop didn’t lock in standby, and it’s sort of just… open. Open for snooping, if Eddie were that kind of guy, which he isn’t.

But he sort of is. The guilty kind, though, because he would feel really, really terrible about it if he did go snooping. So he won’t.

But he definitely doesn’t close Richie’s laptop and put it back on his desk like he should, and he spends a good solid five minutes sitting there, biting his lip as he stares at it. And he eventually figures that Richie doesn’t have anything to hide, right? He’s an open book, he said it himself. So is it really that bad if he just takes a peek?

The first thing he notices is the mess of icons all over his desktop. Nothing is organized into folders, and Eddie’s teeth want to grind looking at the anxiety-inducing cluster of desktop icons. The urge to organize everything into folders for him is incredibly strong, but he resists, because it’s Richie’s choice to be a walking disaster. And also because he doesn’t want Richie to find out he’s been snooping, of course.

There are a few files titled “WIP” with different dates attached to them, and Eddie clicks on a few of them to see sketches and drawings in various degrees of doneness, some barely cohesive lines, and some nearly finished. He spends a while just looking through Richie’s artwork, and honestly, he’s in awe of how talented he is. Most of what he seems to draw are people. Lots of people, and Eddie gets lost for a bit looking through all of their eyes and hair and hands and faces. He finds one that looks close to done, and it looks remarkably just like Richie, if he were a woman. Eddie thinks that’s sort of weird at first, but then he realizes that must be his sister, and his heart swells with fondness.

Some of the drawings are much less…wholesome, which has Eddie blushing bright pink as he looks through them alone in his room. There are quite a few nude drawings that Eddie thinks really are rather tasteful, but there are a few that are just straight up pornographic, and Eddie is starting to feel a bit like this might be an invasion of privacy.

But he’s sure that if he asked Richie to show him more of his art, he’d probably show these to Eddie anyway, because he’s not embarrassed by this sort of thing in the same way that Eddie is. So he continues clicking through various lewd drawings of both men and women, and wow, Richie is really, really talented. He could probably make money selling these, if he wanted. Because Eddie is getting increasingly more flustered the longer he looks.

He finds himself wondering if these are all people that Richie has had sex with, or if they’re drawn from reference. Although the references for a lot of these would have to be just straight up porn, because _wow,_ some of these are incredibly graphic.

One particular drawing catches his eye, and it’s not an especially graphic one, but it’s definitely something. It’s of a person with their mouth hanging open and fingers shoved inside, and drool dripping down their lip, and it triggers a memory in Eddie’s mind of Richie fingering his mouth in the bathroom at the party. He can’t tell if the person in the drawing is male or female because the top of their face is missing, but he can’t help wondering if he might have been the inspiration for this one, based on what he can see of the features. He can’t really deny that those look like his lips and his nose and his freckles.

And _wow,_ that realization has Eddie vibrating under his skin. If Richie thought about that enough to fucking draw it, that’s- that’s- wow.

He knew in the moment that Richie liked it, obviously. _Obviously._ But he never really unpacked that whole situation because he was already so drunk and so high when it happened, and he’s realizing now that he doesn’t really know what Richie is into. They’ve never talked about it. He can make some assumptions based on his personality, and how much he seemed to like Eddie drooling on his fingers, but he doesn’t _know._

And, really, this is just research at this point. He just wants to know if he can find some info on what else Richie might be into, so that he knows what to expect when they start having sex. That’s a perfectly acceptable reason to snoop, right?

Of course, Richie just has a folder in his bookmarks labeled “porn,” which Eddie isn’t surprised by, but it does make this all feel a lot less like a violation of his privacy since he’s so open about it anyway. He clicks on the folder and finds that it’s categorized under guys and girls, and while Eddie is sort of curious about what kind of straight porn Richie watches, he still goes to the “guys” folder.

There are a lot of links to a lot of different videos in there, and the first thing he notices is the overwhelming amount of twink porn. Like, lots of it. Which is fine, Richie is allowed to have a type, no shame there. But a lot of it is pretty specific, and there are definitely recurring themes. “Tiny twink gets wrecked by giant cock,” “Petite twink gets railed hard until he cums,” “Daddy fucks cutie hard with creampie,” “Big dick stomach bulge in petite brunette,” etc. So clearly Richie has a thing for rough sex and big dicks and twinks, which is fine. That’s fine. Eddie figures it’s probably fortunate for him that he’s clearly Richie’s type, so that’s a plus.

Eddie is so incredibly flustered and keeps looking over his shoulder, despite knowing that he’s alone, because just reading a lot of the titles is enough to make him blush red all over his body. He doesn’t see anything weird or crazy (not that he’s looking for it), mostly just what he expects a lot of dom tops probably watch. He plugs his headphones in and clicks around on a few links out of curiosity, and he’s just about to stop snooping when a particular video title in the “recommended for you” section on one of the websites catches his eye: “Tiny twink forced to take rough fucking until he cums.”

A weird, tingly, almost unpleasant feeling starts swimming around under Eddie’s skin when he reads it. It’s not all that different from the others, he figures. It isn’t. Except for that one word. _Forced._ Without that one word, it would be totally innocuous. But Eddie can’t stop staring at it. _Forced. Forced until he cums._

Before he knows what he’s doing he’s already clicked it, and he’s staring at the little pinwheel in the center of the screen, waiting for the video to load. And while he does, he thinks maybe he shouldn’t.

Because this could be triggering. It probably will be triggering, considering he hasn’t really allowed himself to think about what happened in anything but an objective manner. It happened, he moved on. Period. That’s about as much emotional processing as he’s done on the situation. If this ends up being some brutal, hardcore rape porn or something, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to handle the possibility that Richie might be into that. Especially while he’s still trying to get up the courage to have sex with him. It’s not like he had this one _bookmarked_ or anything, but this is clearly a website that he frequents, and if he’s watching enough similar content that it’s suggesting this, that says something, right? But it’s fine. Richie clearly likes rough sex, which Eddie really is okay with, but-

His train of thought is interrupted as the video finally starts, and there’s no build up, no nothing before the two men begin. The bottom is very petite, probably as petite as Eddie himself is, and the top is a lot less scary looking than Eddie expected. He’s thin, not very muscular, but definitely tall. Probably looks taller than he is because the bottom is so small, but still. And Eddie barely has time to make observations before the taller one grabs the smaller one and throws him onto the bed, quickly climbing on after him. Eddie must have missed the set up, but he definitely hears them talking now, as soon as the bottom lets out a small “no” that has Eddie’s heart rate accelerating.

“Please, slow down.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

And Eddie watches the top strip the other man of his clothes so roughly that Eddie can almost feel the harsh dragging of fabric against his own skin, and he’s breathing so hard that he’s worried his neighbors might hear through the thin walls of his dorm room.

The bottom tries to get up as the top starts undressing himself, but he’s quickly wrestled back down onto the bed, where the top straddles his lap and holds his wrists down while he unbuttons his shirt with his other hand. And the whole time the bottom is squirming underneath him, letting out little sounds of effort and struggling, all of which the top ignores, until he laughs at the look on the bottom’s face as he gets his pants undone.

He starts stroking his cock while he stares down at the other man, and the bottom starts struggling again, thrashing his hips to get away.

“You’re gonna fucking rip me open!”

“You'll love it, baby."

“Please don’t!”

The top stands on the bed to drag his pants and boxers down his legs and kick them away, giving the bottom enough time to nearly get off of the bed before he’s grabbed by his ankles and dragged back down with a cry.

“Stop trying to fucking run away from me, you stupid slut.”

“Just let me go, I won’t tell anybody if you let me go!”

“You won’t tell anyone regardless.”

_You won’t want anyone to know._

Eddie nearly clicks away, but finds himself hesitating as the top drags the bottom further down onto the bed by his knees, nearly bending him in half as he pushes his knees toward his chest to get his ass into the air.

“Such a pretty little hole, can’t wait to come in you, fuck,” he whispers harshly before ducking his head down, his tongue flicking out to lick across the bottom’s asshole.

He lets out a cry, his hands scrambling around on the bedspread as he gets tongue-fucked, and Eddie can’t stop staring at the look on his face, how his eyes fall closed and he turns away from the camera like he’s _ashamed,_ and wow, Eddie shouldn’t have watched this, he shouldn’t have-

There’s a loud smack as the top spanks his ass after he pulls his mouth away, and Eddie can see the spit glistening on his hole, and he turns down the volume in his headphones another notch out of paranoia at the yelp that the bottom lets out.

“You ready for my cock? I’m gonna pound your little ass so fucking deep.”

“No, no! Please, I-I’ll suck you off instead. I’ll blow you.”

“Next time,” the top replies simply, spreading the other man’s ass with his hands before spitting directly into his asshole, then doing it again before he shoves his fingers inside and briefly gives a few rough pumps. He spreads his hole again, spitting a few more times before he sits up and grabs hold of his cock, and then he pulls the bottom’s hips down harder against his own before lining his cock up, barely hesitating at all before he roughly shoves inside.

He lets out a grunt at the same time that the bottom lets out another cry, and he immediately starts roughly thrusting into him, moving a hand up to tug on his hair.

“So fucking tight, fuck.”

“Please, please,” is all the bottom keeps repeating, and his voice sounds so wrecked.

“I know you like it baby, look how hard you are for me. You love my cock, don’t you?” he goads, and when the bottom doesn’t reply, he smacks him harshly across the face. “Don’t you, you fucking slut?”

“Yes! Yes, I love it!”

“That’s right.”

He fucks into him more aggressively, so hard that the sound of his balls slamming against the smaller man’s ass causes Eddie to turn down the volume another paranoid notch, and it gets faster and faster as he picks up the pace, his hips working so fast that it looks nearly blurry on camera.

“You gonna come for me? Gonna come from my cock in your ass?” he taunts as the bottom lets out a particularly loud moan, covering his face with his hands. The top grabs him by the hips and drags him further underneath him, so far that he’s thrusting his cock straight down into the smaller man, who is letting out consistent little grunts with an occasional cry, hiding his face behind his arm.

“Show me that pretty face, I want to see your face when you come on my cock,” the top growls harshly, reaching up to pin his wrists above his head before hammering his hips down harder, and the bottom lets out a hitched cry as he comes, bent so far in half that most of it lands on his own neck and face.

“Jesus, fuck, gonna come, gonna come in you, I’m fucking coming inside of you,” the top groans, grunting as his hips stutter, pressing as deep as he can go before he moans lowly, riding out his orgasm in slow, harsh thrusts against the other man’s ass. He pulls out after a moment and smacks the bottom’s ass again with both hands before spreading him open to press his fingers inside, dragging his cum out and bringing his hand to the bottom’s lips, who turns his head away from it. He uses his other hand to grip his jaw, forcing his mouth open before shoving his cum-covered fingers inside, laughing as the bottom gags around them.

He takes a breath before letting go and standing up, allowing the bottom to fall limply against the bed to catch his breath as he walks over to the camera, his cock still glistening with spit and cum as it swings between his thighs.

He winks at the camera before turning it off, and then the video ends, and Eddie has no sound in his ears to distract from his own harsh breathing. He stares blankly at the screen for another moment before shoving the laptop out of his lap, which pulls his headphones out of his ears along with it. And he can hear himself at full volume now, panting into his empty room, and he feels so _hot everywhere,_ and he only feels how hard he is in his jeans when they shift against his erection as he moves to lie down against his pillows.

He lets out a choked moan at the sensation and clenches his fists at his sides for a split second before he tears his zipper down, ripping his button open to pull his cock out over the band of his underwear before he thinks about it too much. He tugs on his cock a few times, just to calm down, he tells himself. But it makes it worse, and soon he’s kicking his pants down as he’s fisting his cock, letting out little moans at the feeling.

He hasn’t touched himself since the party, he’s been afraid to. And there’s a gross, slimy itch at the back of his arousal-fogged mind telling him that this is fucked up of him, it’s fucked up that the first thing he’s jerking off to after what happened to him is that video, but he can’t care right now. He hikes one of his legs up and starts rubbing over his hole on instinct, because he’s gotten used to jerking off like this over the years, and he feels so sensitive to the touch that he lets out a small cry, jerking his hips forward at the feeling. He just wants to come so bad, he doesn’t want to think about it.

He brings his fingers up to his mouth and wets them with his saliva before bringing his hand back down to his ass. He takes a breath before he shoves two fingers inside of himself, groaning softly at the familiar sensation, and before he knows it, he’s fingering himself so hard that his wrist begins to ache. His fist is working at the same pace over his cock, and he feels himself approaching orgasm embarrassingly quickly. Before he knows it, his toes start to curl against his bedsheets as his breathing picks up, and he feels the pull in his belly for only a moment before he’s coming, pumping his fingers as he carries himself through it.

It’s dizzying, and he collapses with his hands at either side of him once he’s finished, desperately trying to catch his breath. And now that he’s done, he feels really, really weird. Guilty, almost. It doesn’t help that he’s splayed out on his bed with cum all over himself and his shirt, with his pants shamefully stuck on one foot.

It’s wrong. It’s wrong that he got so turned on by that. He knows they’re just actors, they’re just pretending, but that’s still...that’s fucked up, because it was _not_ pretend when it happened to him, how the fuck could he jerk off to that?

Something is wrong with him. He shouldn’t have done that, he shouldn’t even have snooped on Richie’s laptop in the first place. He should have turned that video off as soon as he knew what it was. He shouldn’t have clicked on it anyway. What the fuck. What is wrong with him.

He should have been disgusted, he should have been horrified and upset but he wasn’t, he _wasn’t,_ so maybe _he_ was right, maybe Eddie did like it. Maybe he liked it, and he wanted it to happen, because-

He’s knocked out of his anxious thoughts by the sound of his phone ringing, playing “Handsome Devil” loudly from his phone speakers to alert him that it’s Richie. He doesn’t hesitate before grabbing his shattered phone from his pillow and pressing it to his ear, only realizing how out of breath he still is when the “hello” that he breathes into the phone sounds more like a gasp than a word.

Richie chuckles over the phone speaker before responding, and Eddie blushes at the sound. “Hey there, what have you been up to?”

“W-What do you mean? Nothing,” Eddie replies defensively, and Richie laughs harder.

“Okay, let me guess, then. Did you... just go for a run? Been working out? Or...are you fucking somebody who isn’t me?” Richie asks lowly, and Eddie stammers over a response.

“No! No, of course not,” he replies urgently, still trying to catch his breath.

“So,” Richie begins, his voice deep in Eddie’s ear, “did I just get lucky enough to call you while you’re touching yourself?”

Eddie swallows slowly, shifting his legs at the sound of Richie’s voice.

“N-No.”

“Don’t lie to me, baby doll.”

“I’m not, I promise! I just- just...just finished,” Eddie admits softly, and Richie tuts into his ear through the phone speaker.

“Naughty, naughty. Don’t you know you’ll go blind from that? That’s why you should let me do it for you, sweetheart,” Richie tells him softly, and Eddie feels his cock somehow trying to get hard again already.

“I-I want you to,” Eddie hears himself admit in a breath, and he immediately starts panicking, because he is very much _not_ drunk this time, and he can’t blame his forwardness on being strung out on coke.

“Yeah? Is that what you were thinking about while you made yourself come?”

“Yes,” Eddie replies without hesitation, because it _was,_ because he was thinking about the video but he was also thinking about _Richie,_ about Richie bending him in half and fucking him rough and coming inside of him, and he hides his face in his pillows, despite being alone in his room.

“Fuck, baby, you’re making my cock hard,” Richie groans, and Eddie starts palming at his own cock, which is still so sensitive but already half-hard again. “I was just going to ask if I could stop by and grab my laptop before class, but now I kind of want to suck you off when I get there.”

“Y-You want to suck me off?” Eddie asks softly in disbelief, his breathing already elevating again before it even really had the chance to go back to normal.

“Of course, kitten,” Richie tells him, and Eddie lets out a small moan at the new pet name, surprising himself. “I think about it all the time. Sometimes when I'm stroking my cock, I imagine your pretty cock between your pretty thighs, and how sweet you'll taste there. I think about all the cute little noises you’ll make for me while you’re coming in my mouth.”

Eddie is already tugging on his cock again at this point, and he knows it must be obvious when Richie chuckles into the phone again, sending goosebumps all over Eddies body at the sound.

“Are you touching your cock again for me, baby doll?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Well, if you can be a good little kitten and have some patience, I’ll take care of you when I get to your dorm.”

“How-How long will you be?” Eddie asks, sounding much more desperate than he would care to admit.

“15, but I can be there in closer to 10 if you give me the proper motivation.”

“How?”

“Show me the mess you made the first time,” Richie orders lowly, and Eddie glances down at the drying cum all over his belly and thighs before whining into the phone.

“That’s embarrassing!”

“What’s so embarrassing about it, baby doll? The only thing sexier than you covered in my cum is you covered in your own.”

Eddie moans softly at that and considers it for a moment before opening the camera on his phone, quickly snapping a picture of his bare thighs and tummy splattered with his own semen, not even bothering to hide the fact that he got some on his shirt, too. The image is made even more vulgar by his cock still being so hard and so flushed where it rests against his thigh, like he hadn’t even come the first time at all. He’s thankful that his bruises have finally healed, because he wouldn’t be doing this if they hadn’t.

He sends the photo to Richie and waits, nervously biting the inside of his cheek while he shifts his thighs, trying to keep from touching his cock again. It’s hard not to, though, especially when Richie is groaning into his ear a moment later.

“Jesus fucking Christ, sweetheart. You’re so fucking sexy. Think you can keep your hands off that pretty little cock for me until I get there?”

“Y-Yes, just please hurry, okay? Please,” Eddie begs, tingling all over at the rough sound of Richie’s voice.

“Good boy. I’d tell you to clean yourself up, but I’m just gonna make you messy again when I get there.”

“Richie,” Eddie whines, checking the time to see that only a painstaking 2 minutes have passed by.

“Be good, kitten. I’ll see you soon,” Richie says firmly, then hangs up the phone.

Eddie groans and throws his head back into his pillows, deciding that he should probably change his shirt before Richie gets there, despite however sexy Richie might have said it was. He’s got to have a little dignity, at least. So he pulls his shirt over his head and wipes the drying cum off of his skin, wrapping the shirt tightly in a ball before tossing it into his hamper, along with his pants and underwear. He decides to just pull on a large sweater, because he doesn’t want to be naked but he also doesn’t want to be fully dressed, and this one is long enough to cover his dick.

He goes to sit back down and remembers Richie’s laptop, still sitting forgotten at the end of his bed, clearly indicating his crimes. He snatches it up and rips his headphones out of the jack before he quickly erases the few traces of evidence left over in Richie’s recent browsing history. He closes the laptop and places it back on his desk, stressing about if it looks too suspicious, like he’s trying too hard to make it look like he hasn’t fucked with it.

God, this is really happening. This is really, really happening. What if he can’t fucking do this, and ends up disappointing Richie _again,_ for the fucking fifth time? This might be too much. This might be too much for him. But at least he’s sober this time, and relatively calmer, and he’s expecting it this time. At least he knows what he’s getting into, and that might be enough to keep him calm about it. It should, right? It’s just Richie. Richie wouldn’t hurt him.

He doesn’t have a lot of time to think about it, though, before there are three rhythmic knocks at his door. His palms get clammy immediately with nerves, because he’s fucking _nervous_ now that the haze of arousal and anxiety has cleared a bit, and he doesn’t know how he should even greet Richie. “Hey, what’s up? Just chilling with my dick out, how was your walk over?” He doesn’t want to keep Richie waiting with his nerves, though, so he shoves them down and opens the door, pressing his cock down between his legs in case someone else is in the hallway too.

Whatever words he might have said are zapped from his brain as soon as he’s looking up at Richie, who is returning his gaze with such a lustful, _hungry_ look in his eyes that Eddie feels his heart start to pound. He’s about to try to get enough breath in his lungs to say “hi” when Richie tosses his backpack into Eddie's room before he reaches down with both hands, grabbing Eddie around the hips to hoist him up.

Eddie lets out a small yelp but wraps his legs around Richie’s waist all the same, and then his breath is being kissed away as Richie immediately starts licking into his mouth. Eddie lets out a small moan as Richie steps over the threshold into his room and kicks the door closed with his foot, and then he’s carrying Eddie over to his bed to drop him against his pillows, and then he’s climbing between his legs, staring at him so intensely that Eddie feels almost uncomfortable under his gaze.

“I practically ran here, which I’m sure looked pretty sus, considering at least 5 people saw how hard my dick is,” Richie huffs out a laugh, and Eddie laughs too, grateful for the break in the tension that was threatening to swallow him whole. “I was gonna crack a joke or something when I got here, but my brain went to mush when I saw you in this fucking sweater.”

“Do you like it?” Eddie asks softly, looking up at Richie through his lashes shyly, which seems to turn Richie on more, based on the way he reaches a hand down to adjust his cock in his pants.

“You look so god damn cute in your little sweaters, it fucking kills me,” Richie whispers before reaching a hand down to pet over the soft fabric covering Eddie’s chest, pinching one of his nipples before running his hand down to Eddie’s bare thigh. He fingers the hem of Eddie’s sweater before he slides both of his hands underneath it, lifting it up to his ribs. Eddie feels on fire in his belly as Richie runs his hands over the smooth skin of Eddie’s middle, and looks him up and down with so much heat that it makes Eddie wriggle his hips around underneath him.

“Your skin is so fucking soft. Your cock is so pretty,” Richie tells him softly, _tenderly,_ almost, and Eddie feels affection flood his chest so suddenly that he finds himself whining, tugging on the front of Richie’s shirt to pull him down for another kiss. Richie goes easily, firmly gripping the hair at the back of Eddie’s head as he slides their tongues together, which sends Eddie into another lightheaded fit of arousal. He starts pushing his hips up into Richie’s, causing the taller man to groan into his mouth before he’s reaching between them, wrapping a large hand around Eddie’s cock.

Eddie cries out, effectively separating their mouths, and Richie starts stroking while he kisses down Eddie’s jaw to his neck, nipping and licking at the skin there. Eddie is pretty sure he’s in heaven, and honestly, he’s glad that he just jerked off. He’s pretty sure his premature episode wasn’t a one-time thing based on how he gets so worked up so quickly whenever Richie touches him, and he definitely doesn’t want to last 10 seconds this time. It’s remarkably easier to stay relatively calm than he thought it would be too, which he also attributes to having just came, because his mental clarity is fading the faster he gets worked up all over again.

Richie gives a particularly hard bite to his neck and Eddie feels his cock jump in Richie’s hand, making him chuckle against Eddie’s skin. “Dirty boy. Don’t encourage me, I’m trying to be gentle with you,” Richie teases, leaving a second bite next to it before sucking the sore flesh into his mouth, licking and scraping with his teeth in a way that has Eddie moaning his name already.

And, honestly, this is an opportunity to apply what he’s just learned, isn’t it?

"Don't- don't be," Eddie gasps softly, and Richie pauses, letting out a harsh breath against Eddie's neck.

"What was that?"

"Don't be gentle," Eddie insists, and Richie bites down again, _hard_ , and Eddie cries out, moving to grip Richie's biceps in his hands.

"Oh, kitten; don't say that to me unless you mean it," Richie whispers harshly into his ear, and Eddie is trembling underneath him, trying to grind his hips up into Richie's hand.

"I do, I do, I mean it," Eddie gasps, letting out a yelp when Richie uses his grip in Eddie's hair to yank his head back, further exposing the already bruising expanse of skin along his throat.

"Baby, you're gonna be the fucking death of me," Richie groans into his ear before continuing to mark up his neck, leaving bites from his jaw down to his collarbones. "The things I want to fucking do to you...it's hard to control myself sometimes," he growls, and Eddie is panting, grinding his hips up harder as a terrifying little thrill zips through his body.

"Like- like what? What do you want to do to me?" Eddie gasps, moaning as Richie's hands move up to pull at his nipples.

"I want to make you come until you beg me to stop, I want to fuck you so deep that you can’t think straight. I want to fucking tie you up and use you all day like a little fleshlight, and then I want to watch my cum drip down your legs after I fuck you so full that you'll be leaking for days,” he states, roughly grabbing Eddie’s chin to turn his head to the side, admiring the mess of bites and bruises mottling the skin all along his throat. “I want to cover you in me, so that everyone who glances in your fucking direction knows you belong to me.”

"Richie," Eddie cries out in a whine, feeling his body light up with a dizzying intensity at his words. It should be scary. It should, but it's not, and Eddie just wants Richie's hand back on him. "Richie, please touch me, please."

"You sound so pretty when you're begging, kitten," Richie whispers in his ear before he sits back, grabbing at Eddie's thighs so hard that Eddie can feel them bruising already. “Or should I call you puppy, since you rubbed yourself against me like a fucking dog until you came the last time?”

Eddie lets out a whine that he knows is pathetic, but he can’t take much more of this, he just needs Richie to touch him, _something._ “I’ll be whatever you want me to, I’ll do whatever you want, Richie, _please.”_

“Whatever I want? That’s a dangerous game to play, Edward,” he teases, pulling Eddie’s legs farther apart before ducking his head between them, and Eddie prepares for Richie to put his mouth on his cock, but he cries out in shock when he feels Richie licking over his asshole instead.

"Richie! Richie, oh my god," he moans, knowing that he is definitely being too loud, but he doesn't care right now. Richie bends his legs up towards his chest, exposing him further before he uses both hands to spread Eddie's ass open, licking into him so deep that Eddie can't keep his mouth shut, letting out gasps and moans and little cries of Richie's name over and over.

He keeps wanting to drop his legs so he hugs them around his chest instead to keep them in place, but Richie pulls away soon after, almost aggressively tugging Eddie's legs from his chest by the ankles. He's about to ask why he stopped when Richie grabs him by the hips and flips him onto his front, and Eddie can't help grinding down onto the mattress before Richie drags him closer by his knees, sending another little thrill zooming through him.

"So sweet," Richie comments before he hikes Eddie’s hips up, spreading his ass roughly with his hands again before resuming his licking. He's getting deeper this way, and the angle is just so good, and Eddie is nearly incoherent at this point. And Richie is moaning while eating him out, which is fucking hot, and Eddie reaches down to stroke his cock.

Richie somehow notices this and shoots a hand out to grab him by the wrist, effectively stopping him before he even gets a few good pumps in. He pulls that arm tightly behind Eddie's back and holds it there, like a warning not to do it again. So Eddie doesn't, even though he really fucking wants to.

Richie eventually let's go to slap Eddie on the ass with both hands, making him yelp before he's spreading Eddie open to admire how wet and pink his hole is. He runs his fingers through the moisture there before bringing his fingers to his mouth to wet those too, then spits on Eddie's hole for good measure before pushing two of his long fingers inside.

"R-Richie," Eddie moans brokenly, his hips hitching back on their own to press Richie's fingers further inside of himself. Richie chuckles, dragging his fingers purposefully against Eddie's prostate, causing him to cry out again and buck his hips back.

"Were you fingering yourself earlier, kitten?" He asks lowly, and Eddie whines, burying his face in his pillow in embarrassment. "I asked you a question," Richie warns in a threatening tone, hooking his fingers down harshly to push against Eddie's prostate, causing the smaller man to drop his hips into the bed. Richie grabs him and hikes his hips back up roughly, picking up the pace of his fingers while Eddie tries desperately to get a hold of himself.

"I-I- yes, I was," he eventually manages to admit softly between gasps that are growing in volume at the sensation of Richie's fingers moving inside of him, so much longer than his own. They're reaching so deep inside of him that it's knocking his breath away.

"I can tell. You finger your little asshole a lot, don't you kitten? You’re taking it so easy. Can't wait to watch you stretching around my cock.” Richie starts caressing Eddie's ass with his free hand, and Eddie feels like he's lost all control as he starts throwing his hips back into Richie's hands, making such desperate sounds that he's sure he should probably be embarrassed.

"Do it, please, please just do it, just fuck me," Eddie begs, so beyond the point of caring about how slutty he sounds, and honestly relieved that he wants to have sex so badly right now. It's a welcome feeling.

"No baby doll, I have class, remember? I’m going to take my time when I wreck your pretty little hole with my cock," Richie tells him sweetly, leaning forward to press a kiss against Eddie's temple before he pulls his fingers away.

"No, no, please don't stop," Eddie whines desperately, trying to follow Richie's hand with his hips, but finds himself held in place by a firm hand on his waist.

"Turn around," Richie orders darkly, and Eddie immediately turns over onto his back, feeling so small under the intensity of Richie's gaze. He looks Eddie over like he wants to eat him whole, and Eddie whimpers involuntarily, subconsciously pulling his sweater down in embarrassment.

Richie grabs his wrist and firmly pulls it away before lifting his sweater back up, watching with hungry eyes as Eddie's cock pops into view again. "Don't you ever hide yourself from me. I want to see all of you."

"I-I'm sorry," Eddie whispers, and Richie responds by kissing him deeply, caressing Eddie on his belly and thighs as he does so.

"You're just so pretty, kitten. You shouldn't hide it away," he whispers when he pulls his lips away from Eddie's, before he trails down his neck again, kissing gently over the harsh bruises and marks that he left there. He continues moving down to his chest, nipping at one of his nipples before continuing lower and lower, and Eddie can feel his breaths getting quicker the lower he goes. “You’re so perfect, like you were made just for me.”

He takes his time kissing and biting at Eddie's thighs, likely leaving bite marks to match the ones covering his throat. The way he's nipping and sucking at Eddie's skin has his cock jumping, trying desperately to seek contact where Richie is deliberately avoiding it.

"Richie, please, _please_ ," Eddie begs, trying to stop himself from wrapping his fingers in Richie's hair to drag his mouth onto his cock.

"Please what, sweetheart?"

"Please suck it," Eddie gets out in a whine, which seems to be enough, because Richie groans at the sound of it.

"How could I say no when you asked so politely, kitten?" Richie praises, dropping onto his front between Eddie's legs. He grips Eddie's thighs and pulls him down until they're resting against his shoulders, and Eddie barely has time to take a breath before Richie has his entire cock in his mouth, making all of Eddie's muscles give out at once.

"Oh, oh, Richie, _Richie_ ," Eddie nearly yells, reaching down his shaky hands to wind Richie's curls around his fingers. "Feels so good, Richie."

Richie moans around him, using his hands to lift him up by the ass and take him deeper. Eddie cries out, tossing his head back against his pillows, and he nearly screams when Richie pulls off.

"Richie, please, please keep going, don't stop, please," Eddie is nearly in tears with his desperation, trying to hump forward into Richie's mouth. Richie smacks him on the thigh in warning before spreading both of them, exposing his hole once more. He spits there, jolting Eddie's body with the sensation before he does it again, then shoves his fingers back inside of him, brushing firmly against Eddie's prostate in a way that has him tear up at the feeling.

"Richie, I feel like I'm gonna cry," he admits, already sniffling. Richie looks up at him from between his legs and smirks, wrapping a hand loosely around Eddie's cock again.

"Why's that, sweetheart?"

"Because I want to come so bad, please," Eddie begs through a sob, finally reaching his limit with Richie's teasing.

"But I'm having so much fun, kitten. Do you want to ruin my fun?" Richie teases, his eyes lighting up at the way Eddie sobs when he starts giving slow, hard strokes with his fingers again. He squeezes hard at the base of Eddie's cock before he picks up the pace, giving quick, firm pumps with his fingers that have Eddie's legs shaking uncontrollably. Eddie wants to fucking scream, wants to pry Richie's fucking vice grip off of his dick so he can finally just come.

But then Richie starts sucking him down again, and he releases his hold on Eddie's cock, and Eddie’s body is fighting so hard to decide whether to focus on Richie's fingers in his ass or his mouth on his cock, and every suck and press and sensation has him violently swinging between the two until he is coming so hard that his muscles lock up, and he's pressing Richie's shoulders down with his thighs, and his toes are curling so hard that they crack.

And he knows the sound he makes is _not_ flattering, but he can't hold back the guttural groan that drags up from his belly, and then he's gasping as Richie takes him through it. He doesn't know where the fuck it comes from, but he finds himself muttering, among the other gibberish pouring from his lips, "oh, oh god, _Daddy_."

And something about it feels _almost_ weird, but Richie lets out a primal sound around his cock as soon as the word leaves his mouth and Eddie nearly screams at the sensation, which is getting too be too much, _too much_. Richie finally pulls off and sits up, and Eddie watches him swallow down his cum as he moves to straddle Eddie's chest, staring down at him with an excited, almost _feral_ look in his eyes.

"You're such a good boy baby, so pretty. Sound so pretty when you come for me," Richie praises through his panting breaths, petting affectionately through Eddie's messy hair as he undoes his belt and fly with his other hand. He pulls his cock out of his pants and Eddie feels his eyes widen, taken aback by seeing the size of it, despite having felt it a few times by now.

Richie notices and chuckles, smacking Eddie's cheek with his shaft before he starts stroking it, looking positively gleeful. "Don’t be scared, kitten; my cock’s gonna feel so good in your little ass. I promise you’ll like it.”

Eddie moans softly and bites his lip at that and Richie follows the movement with his eyes, stroking faster over his cock as he stares down at Eddie underneath him. "You're a little slut, aren't you?"

"Yours, I'm _your_ slut, Daddy," Eddie insists through his breaths, watching as the tip of Richie's cock disappears and reappears in his fist, inches from his face.

"That’s right, kitten. My little slut, just mine. You’re such a dirty boy for me, aren’t you? You want Daddy to come for you, baby?"

"Please, please, want it so bad, Daddy. Want you to come all over my face," Eddie urges, blinking up at Richie through his lashes as he picks up his pace to near furious, letting out labored, panting grunts.

Richie reaches to grab the hair at the back of Eddie's head, tugging it back to arch his throat up towards himself. "Open your mouth, baby doll," he orders firmly, and Eddie does, allowing his tongue to loll out over his bottom lip. Richie moans at the sight, trailing his eyes over Eddie's pretty, delicate features.

"I'm gonna come, baby, fuck, Daddy’s gonna fucking come all over you," he gasps out before he's groaning, pumping his cock as he paints cum all across Eddie's lips and tongue and down his neck, all over the marks littering his throat.

Once he's done, Eddie licks over his lips and swallows down what he can, barely registering the taste because he's so exhausted now. Richie pets through his hair again before climbing off, leaning down to press a kiss to Eddie’s hair as he starts doing his pants back up.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” Richie coos, and Eddie beams while he’s lying there limply, trying desperately to stay awake and catch his breath.

He tries to respond, but it comes out as something between a mumble and a whine, and Richie smiles down at him, laughing softly.

"You sleepy, baby doll?" Richie teases, ruffling Eddie's hair affectionately once he has his belt buckled again, handing him some tissues to wipe the cum off of his throat.

"So sleepy. Don't go to class, just stay here and take a nap with me," Eddie pleads, giving Richie his best puppy dog eyes.

"Come on, baby, don’t look at me like that, that’s not fair. There is literally nothing in the world I would rather do more, but I unfortunately have a project I've got to turn in today,” he states sadly, then pauses, biting his lip in thought. “You can stay over tonight, though. If you want to.”

And suddenly Eddie remembers last night, and something about a party. He remembers that Richie mentioned going to a party tonight at OGR, and his heart sinks. “I thought you said- I thought you were going out tonight.”

"Not if you come over."

"So...so are you saying you would prefer for me to come over or to go out, because-"

"I would rather you come over, Eds. Believe it or not, spending time with my boyfriend sort of takes priority over playing beer pong and watching freshman girls get so drunk that they projectile."

Eddie's whole body seizes and he gets lightheaded, trying desperately to wrap his head around what Richie just said.

"Boyfriend? I’m- I'm your boyfriend?" He asks softly, and Richie laughs, leaning down to press another kiss to Eddie's lips.

"If you want to be, honeybee."

"I-I- Yes! Yes, definitely yes, oh my god. Holy shit," Eddie stammers out, shooting up in his bed as a rush of energy surges through him.

Boyfriend. _Boyfriend_.

"Awesome."

"Yeah, yes, super awesome. Holy shit."

Richie laughs again, smiling affectionately at him before he grabs his laptop from Eddie's desk. He goes to put it in his backpack that he left by the door and starts laughing when he gets over there, causing Eddie to crane his neck in an attempt to see what’s so funny.

"Looks like you've got a crowd complaint," Richie teases, bending over to pick up a piece of paper from right under the door.

"Wuh?"

"It seems that one of your neighbors didn't appreciate the free entertainment," he laughs, handing the note over to Eddie.

_If you're gonna fuck at 8am could you please do it more quietly? Like no shade, get that early morning dick, but I could hear you down the hall. PS you guys are a super cute couple. PPS tell your boyfriend he's hot but he needs to comb his hair._

"Oh my god...oh my god, I have to move out. Oh my god."

"Relax, babe. It's a freshman dorm, everyone is fucking too loud. Next time we'll just go to my place.”

"You still have neighbors!"

"Yeah, but unlike you, I want my neighbors to hear you screaming my name," Richie winks at him and Eddie balls the note up, tossing it at Richie's chest.

"I'm glad you think this is so funny!"

"I mean, it is."

"I'm mortified."

"Learn how to be quiet, then. Nobody else has control over how loud your slutty little moans are, kitten; that's all you."

"Fuck you."

"Wish I could but I've got to get to class, you already made me late."

"How did I make you late?!"

"Answering the phone when you were jerking off, answering the door in that fucking sweater, telling me I could be rough with you. I was just gonna come get my laptop before you enticed me, and we both know I'm not strong enough to resist that sort of temptation. So the burden of responsibility lies on you, Eduardo."

"You have no self-control, that's not my fault."

"And yet you continue to bait me. I’m convinced that you do it on purpose."

Eddie rolls his eyes, falling back onto his bed with a groan.

"You're a turd."

"Well now I'm _your_ turd, so," Richie teases, leaning over the bed to give Eddie one last kiss, gently biting his bottom lip before he stands. "See you later, boyfriend."

"Bye, see you," Eddie replies softly, unable to keep the big, stupid smile off of his face as he watches Richie walk out of the door, winking at him before he closes it and leaves.

Eddie collapses back onto his pillows and panic squeals, still smiling like a fucking moron. He decides to text his group chat with the trio to let them know that he’s doing much better than he was yesterday when they last saw him. Way better. Leagues better.

_E: Hey guys, just wanted to let you know I’m doing a lot better. Richie ended up coming over after you guys left and we hung out and watched movies. It helped a lot._

_M: I’m glad you’re feeling better! See you at lunch :D_

Eddie is on cloud fucking nine all morning after that. He really didn’t expect Richie to ask him to make things official ever really, if he’s honest. Richie doesn’t seem like the type of person who would like being tied down. But _he_ was the one who asked _Eddie._ Which means he really wants to be boyfriends. Which means that Eddie has been stressed this whole time about nothing.

And honestly, he feels lighter and happier than he has in weeks. He really doesn’t think anything could possibly take him down from this feeling, this _high,_ until he meets up with the trio for lunch. And he can tell by the look on Stan’s face as soon as he sits down that it’s time for the come down, and he can feel himself preparing for it.

"Why doesn't he just pee on you, at this point," Stan mumbles pointedly after Eddie starts eating his salad, and Bill coughs up part of his sandwich while Mike glares at Stan over his coffee mug.

"Stan, come on," he scolds softly, and Stan rolls his eyes.

"Just saying, if he's that determined to mark his territory."

"W-What?" Eddie asks in confusion, looking at the three of them as they look back, one in irritation and two in sympathy.

"Your neck, Eddie. It looks like someone tried to fucking eat you alive," Stan says, and Eddie goes red, pulling the collar of his hoodie up higher.

"It's that noticeable?"

"I can make out individual bite marks. Looks like he’s got pretty straight teeth, at least.”

Eddie goes beet red, subconsciously rubbing at the marks on his neck. "We just...got carried away."

"’We?’ So I can assume Richie is walking around somewhere also looking like a Dalmatian?"

"Well…well no, but I said it was okay," Eddie nearly whispers, and Stan lets out a sigh.

"I'm not here to kink shame, nor am I in a position to kink shame, but I think maybe you should dial it back a little if you're already at the point where he's leaving you with bruises. You guys haven't even really defined what your relationship is yet," Stan offers gently this time, but Eddie still feels like a little kid getting reprimanded by his father.

"We did! We did this morning, he asked me to be his boyfriend!"

Stan raises his eyebrows, seeming genuinely surprised.

"Congrats, Eddie!" Mike offers cheerfully, glancing at Bill for back up.

"Yeah, that's awesome, dude," Bill adds after a hesitant moment, purposefully avoiding Stan's side-eye.

"Well…that's great, Eddie," Stan offers with careful eyes, and Eddie clenches his fists on the table.

That’s it. That’s fucking it. He can’t do this anymore.

"Why can't you be happy for me? You were the one who wanted me to meet guys in the first place!"

"Yes, _guys._ Richie is one guy, who you started talking to and then you ignored every other option available to you. I mean, what about Troy? He’s so nice, and he obviously likes you. Why not ask him out on a real date?”

“Because I don’t like him like that. He’s cool, and he’s… you know, he’s nice and stuff. But he’s just my friend. I want to be with Richie.”

“I'm not trying to be a dick, Eddie, but you could do so much better than a frat douche stoner who's drunk all the time," Stan says, very much being a dick.

"You don't know anything about him, you've never even tried to get to know him. He's a good person, and I like him. I don't get what your problem is with him," Eddie is trying not to raise his voice and cause a scene in the dining hall, but he's getting so angry that his face feels warm.

“I mean, didn’t you say that he was being weird with you all week? And then he just…pops back up to be Prince Charming all of a sudden because you were hanging out with another guy? And bruises you up like a stud marking its bitch? That’s pretty possessive, don’t you think?” Stan bites, and he seems genuinely angry, and Eddie wants to fucking punch him, because he has no fucking right.

“I remember telling _Mike_ that, not you, but apparently I should just fucking assume that anything I say to one of you gets around to the others, huh? What the fuck, Mike?” Eddie snaps, glaring at Mike, who looks panicked.

“Eddie, I was just- I was worried about you, you seemed so upset, and-“

“Well fucking stop. I never fucking asked any of you to worry about me, so stop.”

"We just don't want you to get hurt, Eddie. That's it, okay? I don't want you to find yourself in a shitty situation and get hurt, _that's it_ ," Stan insists, putting his hands up in a placating gesture, as though Eddie is an angry little kitten that he's trying to coax out of a corner. As if Stan didn’t spur this on.

"Out of all the people in my life who have hurt me, Richie isn't one of them. He's never done anything wrong to me."

“I'm just saying to be careful. This is all new to you and you seem like you're falling pretty fast. I just… I'm afraid that he sees you as a sort of novelty," Stan tells him with this condescending tone that makes Eddie want to scream.

"A _novelty_?"

"He just seems to me like he wants something cute to hold and something broken to fix."

"So you're calling me broken!"

"I'm saying you've been through a lot and it could make you a target, Eddie. You _just_ came out of the closet. I mean, did you even use a condom? Do you know how to have safe sex with a man, Eddie? These are things I would expect Richie to talk to you about but I'm pretty confident that he hasn't, has he?"

"I can take care of my fucking self, you have no idea what I’ve been through. And, not that it's any of your fucking business, we haven’t had sex. I'm not some delicate, naive flower Stan; I know the world is a fucking shitty place full of fucked up people, but Richie isn't one of them. He's kind and good to me and I like him a lot, so stop trying to fucking ruin this for me," Eddie is sniffling by the end, blinking away the tears stinging at his eyes.

"I'm not trying to ruin this for you, Eddie. I want you to be happy and find someone, but I want to make sure you're being smart about it. I don't want anything bad to happen to you," Stan tells him gently, but Eddie doesn't fucking want to hear it right now, not from Stan, with his stupid fucking perfect relationship.

"Well sorry we can't all find our soulmate at 13, Stan! Oh, sorry, _soulmates_ , because one apparently wasn't enough," Eddie sniffs, reaching up to wipe his tears with the sleeve of his hoodie. "The- the worst thing that could have happened to me already happened, and- and it was _my fault_ , Richie didn't have _anything_ to do with it. It was my fault, and I learned my lesson, okay? So leave Richie alone, he hasn't done anything wrong."

Stan cocks his head, his eyes going slightly wider in what Eddie assumes is concern or alarm, and why did he fucking say that? That was stupid. But it's also true and he means it, but he doesn't have to explain that to Stan. Fuck Stan right now.

"What-What do you mean? Eddie, what happened?"

"None of your business. I'm leaving, I have class," Eddie gathers his things and shoves them into his backpack, turning to walk away before he even has it zipped all the way.

"Eddie, wait-"

Eddie turns back and stares at Stan in the eyes, his eyes that look concerned and _scared_ , and all he shoots back is his own frustration.

"No! Stop treating me like a kid. I know I'm moving too fast, and that I don't know what I'm doing, okay? I know. But I finally feel happy, and you're making me feel bad about it."

"I didn't- I didn't mean to make you feel bad, Eddie, I just-"

"You did. So I'm gonna go," Eddie tries to leave on a strong note, but his voice breaks halfway through and he's crying still, so he walks away before people start to notice how much of a mess he is.

Before he knows it he's stomping across campus to the upperclassmen apartments, because it's not like he has any other friends to go to. And besides, he just wants to be with Richie right now, even if that's clingy and pathetic.

You'd think that the near mile long walk would give him time to calm down, but it doesn't, and that makes him angrier. Fuck Stan for his holier-than-thou, know-it-all attitude. Eddie would probably know what the fuck he was doing too, if he was out of the closet and in love for almost 6 years. But that's not a fucking privilege that everyone else gets to have.

And besides, he's doing pretty fucking well, he thinks, considering. Considering he grew up believing that being gay was a literal sickness, and that if he didn't get cured, he would go to hell or get AIDs or both. Especially considering what happened to him at that stupid fucking party. Not that he's going to even tell Stan about that, but he thinks he's been pretty damn resilient, given the circumstances. And sure, sometimes he still has trouble sleeping without the light from his phone illuminating the space under his covers, and he still flinches when people touch him without him expecting it, and he fixates at night on the fact that he doesn't know who did it and that he is probably doing it to other people too, but he's managed to let Richie touch him, and he didn't even freak out. He really _liked_ it, even, and that's a fucking win in his book. So fuck Stan, he doesn’t know fucking anything.

Stan doesn't know anything about Richie, and he hasn't even tried to. He just assumes that Richie is an asshole and that's it. That's not fucking fair. They have nothing in common, whatever, it's not like Eddie and Stan and Bill have a ton in common either, but he still hung out with them because Mike is his friend, and he discovered that he likes them a lot. If Stan is really his friend, he would give Richie a fucking chance.

And why is he so worried anyway? It's not like they've been friends for very long, it's not like Eddie has done anything to make Stan worry so much about him in the first place. He didn't come to college to be parented. Stan isn't his fucking father. He needs to fucking back off.

He bangs on the door of Richie's apartment more aggressively than he probably needs to, but nobody answers, so he does it again harder.

"I swear to fucking god, Beverly, if you forget your keys one more god damn time, I'm gonna make a pocket for them in your fucking kidneys," he hears Richie yell from inside, and then there's shuffling, and the door swings open a moment later. Richie looks pissed and tired, and Eddie feels bad for waking him up because he should have known he’d be napping around this time, but seeing him still sends a punch of relief through him.

"Oh shit, hey," he says once he realizes it's Eddie, and his voice is still raspy with sleep. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I-I'm mad at Stan," Eddie tells him, but it sounds a lot less angry and a lot more flustered, considering that Richie answered the door in just his boxers and this is the most Eddie has seen of his body. His eyes are lingering on the various tattoos all over him, particularly the one of a blade on his left side that starts in line with his bellybutton and dips below the band of his boxers.

"And you want me to go beat him up?" Richie guesses with a yawn, running his hand through his messier-than-usual curls.

"No, no. I just- can I come in?"

Richie steps aside and allows Eddie to walk into the living room, closing and locking the door behind them. Eddie whips around and stares at him, his muscles tensing, and he suddenly has the urge to run away before he lays eyes on Richie again, sleepily walking back towards his bedroom.

"We have nothing in the fridge other than half an Olde English and pizza from yesterday, but help yourself if you want," Richie calls to him from the hallway, and Eddie grimaces.

"Just had lunch, but thanks for that nearly irresistible offer."

"Sooo did you and Stanny have it out in the dining hall? Food fight?" Richie asks lightly, returning from his room with his glasses and a t shirt on.

"Not quite, though I was tempted," Eddie huffs, plopping down onto the couch.

"Baby, I totally want to hear all about what Mean Old Mr. Staniel did, but I absolutely require a kiss first because your little grumpy face is cuter than I pictured it being, and now that I'm seeing it in full HD, I will not be able to focus on what you're saying."

And it’s just how Richie is, but it’s making him sort of mad right now, how Richie has this air of playfulness while Eddie is clearly fuming.

But he still allows himself to be tugged into Richie’s lap after he sits down onto the couch, and honestly, it is sort of helping. And Richie presses a wet kiss to his lips before relaxing back against the cushions, holding Eddie around the waist like a child with a teddy bear.

“Okay, I’m good now. Go on.”

“Um… he just. He’s being a dickhead about this whole situation, and I’m over it. I know he doesn’t like you, and that’s- that’s fine, I’m not forcing him to. But it’s like he’s mad at _me_ because I like you, and that’s so shitty and unfair. He’s convinced you’re just, like, a total asshole. And I don’t really get why.”

“Probably because I am an asshole.”

Eddie huffs, turning his head to glare at Richie. “I’m being serious, Richie. I’m really upset about this.”

“I’m being serious, too. I’m a fucking asshole, Eddie. I suck. I’m, like, way below your league. I can’t really blame Stan for noticing that. I just think he needs to treat you like an adult and let you make your own dumb choices,” he shrugs, and Eddie wishes Richie weren’t so good at hiding his emotions when he wants to, because he can’t read his expression.

“What-What does that mean? You think you’re a dumb choice?”

“Yeah. I mean, I am, pretty objectively. I have nothing to really offer you, Eddie. I told you that from the beginning. I’m a burnout art student and a borderline functioning alcoholic, it’s not like I’m exactly husband material,” Richie says, and Eddie wants to fucking scream.

“Stop! Just shut up, shut the fuck up. That’s not true.”

“It is true.”

“You’re also so kind, and talented, and funny and wonderful and- and you’re not just some asshole, okay? I mean, fuck! I thought I was the insecure one!”

“I’m not insecure, Eddie,” Richie laughs, and Eddie doesn’t really like the sound of it right now. “I’m just realistic. I’m very secure in what I am, actually. I know I’m not some noble type who’s going to turn your whole life around for the better. I’m not your knight in shining armor. I’m more like…like the cool guy you let your hair down for so I can blow your back out while you’re waiting for your prince to show up. That’s me.”

“So you’re saying you’re just a placeholder until I find someone better?”

“Pretty much. I mean, that’s what always happens. Which is chill, because like I said, I know I’m not exactly ‘wifey for lifey’ status. I mean, obviously I hope that you stick around for a while, because I really like you, but I know eventually you’ll realize how much better you could do than me and move on. And I’m okay with that. I want you to end up with someone who has more to offer you. You deserve more than anyone I know to find your forever guy and settle down and have your happily ever after,” Richie continues on, and Eddie feels his heart breaking into a million tiny pieces.

He spins around in Richie’s lap and grabs his face in his hands, which seem to take Richie off-guard, based on the startled look that passes over his face. “Stop. Right now. Is that seriously how you see yourself, Richie? I mean- I mean honestly?”

“That’s…that’s just reality, Eds,” Richie replies, his face still an unreadable mask that’s making Eddie anxious looking at it.

“No, it’s fucking not!” Eddie tells him firmly, with tears already threatening to spill from his eyes. “Richie, nobody in my life has ever, _ever_ made me feel the way that you do. You make me feel safe, and comfortable, and in control, and- and _free._ And you make me feel like I’m fucking worth something, like I’m interesting and funny and worth your time. And this morning, you made me feel so- so _wanted._ You made me feel so _good_ , you made me feel good in a way I didn’t think I was capable of. So stop saying all of these things about yourself, please. _Please._ I can’t listen to it anymore,” Eddie is crying by the end of it, still holding Richie’s face in his hands, and Richie looks stricken.

“Eddie, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you so upset,” he tells him, gently grabbing Eddie’s wrists to bring his hands back down to his sides. “I’m sorry. I just- that’s just how I thought we were both looking at this situation. I thought you felt the same way.”

“You thought that I- that I looked at you like a fucking pit stop boyfriend? Richie, you’re- you’re everything I want. I want you, I just want you. Do you get that?”

Eddie still can’t read Richie’s expression and he wants to scream, wants to be hysterical until Richie gives fucking anything away about how he’s feeling.

“Yeah, I guess; now I do. I’m sorry, Eddie,” he says softly, and Eddie wraps him into a hug, squeezing him as tightly as he can.

“I don’t want to hear you say things like that about yourself.”

“I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.”

“No, I don’t mean it like that, I just mean- I mean don’t talk badly about yourself and put yourself down like that. If you’re having a hard time, you can obviously talk to me about it; you know that, right? You can talk to me. You can tell me anything, Richie, I mean it.”

“Eddie…I know you want me to just, like, open up to you and shit. And I promise I can try my best, but…but it’s not that easy for me, baby doll. I can’t just spill my guts and tell you all my secrets.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t. And you can’t either, right? You’re keeping things from me, just like I’m keeping things from you,” Richie states seriously, looking Eddie in the eyes with such intensity that Eddie desperately wants to shy away from it.

“Well…well okay. Fine. I understand. But I hope- I hope we can both learn to be honest with each other, right?”

“That’s typically the end goal in a relationship, I think. I don’t know, I’m bad at commitment.”

Something around Eddie’s heart tightens. “What- what does that mean?”

“I’ve cheated on every single person I’ve ever been in a relationship with. I’m, like, dog shit at being a boyfriend. I want to learn how to be better for you, though,” Richie tells him with a small smile, and Eddie still feels anxious about it, but he did tell Richie he wanted him to be honest. And he’s trying to change, and that’s what’s important.

“Well I’m…I’m dog shit at being honest and vulnerable, so I guess we both have some shit to work on.”

“Is this what an adult relationship is like? Having, like, legit conversations about difficult topics? Addressing your insecurities and how they might impact your relationship? Am I getting old?”

“Yes. Although I will absolutely not be a mature adult about it if you cheat on me. I will tear your sack open with my bare hands.”

“Honestly, babe, I don’t think I’ll ever want to fuck anybody else. You’re peak,” Richie tells him, and suddenly straddling his lap feels less innocent, and Eddie blushes across his cheeks.

“Fuck you,” he rolls his eyes, trying to play it off casually, but Richie rests his hands on Eddie’s thighs, and it’s getting harder to breathe.

“I’m serious. You were an angel this morning, baby doll. I have never seen anything more beautiful in my fucking life. I’m an artist, I know a masterpiece when I see one.”

“All I did was lie there and be loud and piss off my neighbors.”

“And you were the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen in my life while doing it.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being a perv or a sap.”

“I can’t be both?”

“If anyone can, it’s you.”

“Compliment or insult?”

“Dealer’s choice.”

Richie huffs out a laugh before pulling Eddie into a kiss, and it starts out as mostly air and teeth while they’re smiling and laughing into each other’s mouths. But eventually Richie tugs Eddie further into his lap by his ass and licks into his mouth, and Eddie stops laughing.

Richie keeps it relatively slow, at first, but once he starts pressing his fingers into Eddie’s ass and Eddie is letting out breathy little moans against his lips, he gets more excited. More aggressive. And Eddie likes it, he really does. He likes the way that Richie grabs him and squeezes him and guides Eddie through their kiss, which is more tongue than anything.

Richie eventually pulls away from Eddie’s lips to press kisses to his throat, over the same spots that he marked up earlier in the morning. And it kind of hurts, it’s a little sore, but Eddie finds himself really _liking_ that too, and he lets out soft little whines and mewls as Richie retraces his bite marks with gentle presses of his lips.

“You even _sound_ like a little kitten,” he teases between his kisses to Eddie’s skin, and Eddie wants to be mad and say something sassy, but he can’t manage it. “Every noise you make is so pretty, baby. Can’t wait to hear all the pretty sounds you make while you’re coming on my cock.”

“Richie,” Eddie whines, as if to prove his point.

“Yes, baby doll?”

Eddie just whines again in response, and Richie lets out a chuckle against his skin.

“You’re not very good at articulating when you get all worked up, baby. What happened to ‘I’m your little slut, Daddy’? What happened to ‘Come all over my face, Daddy’? We should work on that. Maybe you should practice telling me all of the fucking filthy things you’re gonna let me do to you once I have you spread out underneath me.”

Richie brings a hand up to wrap around Eddie’s throat, and Eddie is nearly embarrassed when he moans at the feeling, mentally preparing for Richie to choke him.

But he doesn’t, he uses his grip to turn Eddie’s head to the side, admiring his artwork splotched against Eddie’s throat. He has that primal look in his eyes again as he does it, and soon he’s breathing heavier, and he starts to unbutton Eddie’s jeans.

And some part of Eddie wants to let him, but a bigger part of him doesn’t. Because he already came twice today, and honestly, he’s sore from Richie grabbing at him and being so rough with him earlier. Not that he’s complaining.

“Richie,” he tries to say firmly, but it doesn’t come out that way.

“Rich,” he tries again, more assertively this time, but Richie still doesn’t respond. He starts pulling Eddie’s zipper down, and something in Eddie’s brain fires off in panic. He frantically grabs Richie’s wrist just as he’s moving to reach his hand into Eddie’s briefs.

“Stop, Rich.”

And he does, going so still that it nearly startles Eddie in its abruptness, with his hands still locked onto the waistband of Eddie’s underwear.

“Why?”

“Not really trying to bust a third before 2pm.”

Richie sighs and pulls back, watching as Eddie does his jeans back up. “Lame. Very lame of you, Edward.”

“I don’t even think I have any semen left in my body for you to extract.”

“Wanna bet?”

“I’m serious! I came so much earlier, I’m pretty sure dust will come out if you make me go again.”

“Bullshit, you’ve got at least 3 or 4 more loads in you before you’re dried out.”

“Well, that’s a theory to test another time,” Eddie sighs, climbing off of Richie’s lap to sit next to him on the couch.

“See, this is why I want to skip all the awkward fumbling parts of when you first start having sex with someone and fast forward to the part when you let me get you high and fuck you all day,” Richie sighs, dramatically throwing his head against the back of the couch.

“You sure you wanna do coke with me again after last time?” Eddie tries to joke, but something about this conversation is making him sweaty.

“Didn’t say it had to be coke. Plenty of other options.”

“Have you just fucked on every drug in existence?”

“Pretty much.”

“And coke is your favorite?”

“No, no fucking way.”

“Then what is your favorite?”

“GHB, one hundred percent,” Richie responds without hesitation. “Fucking on G is fucking amazing. It makes me come, like, a fucking gallon. Definitely GHB.”

Eddie doesn’t know what the fuck that is, but he doesn’t ask. Maybe he’ll be able to figure it out from context.

“What does it…what does it feel like?”

“Fucking amazing. Everything just feels so good, and it makes your dick, like, insane. Like no refractory period, doesn’t even get soft. It’s amazing. G and molly is a dream combo. Just like all sensation and crazy intense orgasms and literally no cool down. I wish molly agreed with my dick better because I’d never _not_ be fucking if I could more regularly partake in that dynamic duo,” Richie explains, and Eddie doesn’t think he wants to know anymore about it. That feels like enough. But Richie keeps talking.

“Only thing that sucks is that it’s super easy to dose too high on G which basically makes your body fucking useless. Like the difference in dosages for ‘a good time’ and ‘totally incapacitated’ is very slim. Especially if you’ve been drinking.”

Eddie feels sort of like he’s outside of his body, and he wants to change the subject, but he can’t get his brain to hold onto a thought long enough to think of something to say. Which sucks, because when there’s silence, Richie fills it. Because he doesn’t ever stop fucking talking, which Eddie normally likes, but right now he wishes he would shut the fuck up so Eddie can calm down and come back into himself.

“Don’t trust anybody else to give you GHB. You’re so small, they’ll definitely dose you too high. Do it with me.”

“I- I won’t,” he manages to say finally, and he tries to stop his brain in its tracks before it starts going off on thought tangents like it does when he thinks about this, especially when he isn’t planning on thinking about it and it just sort of happens. But it’s too late, and the gears are turning, and Richie is saying something else now, but Eddie isn’t listening.

Because he’s thinking about the encompassing terror of being unable to do much more than weakly struggle while somebody held him down and raped him. Raped him in a dark room while he was so drunk he could barely stand up. He got raped.

And honestly, as disgusted as he is with himself for doing it, he’s found himself wondering why it was him lately. Not that he would ever, ever, _ever_ wish for someone else to go through that. But he lies in bed sometimes thinking about it. Sometimes it just pops up as an unwelcome, intrusive thought while he’s brushing his teeth or doing his homework or something else equally as unrelated and mundane. Just. Why me. Why did it happen to me.

Truthfully, he has his answers. He just doesn’t like them, because it was his fault, and he doesn’t like thinking about that. Because he put himself in that position, and he has nobody else to blame.

_You knew what you were doing when you left your dorm dressed like that._

_You’re a slutty little tease._

_You were already on drugs._

_You were taking drinks from everyone._

But truthfully, thinking about the personal responsibility that he failed to take for himself that night hurts less than the other reasons why he’s sure that it happened to him. Because he could have dressed differently and stayed sober and probably would have been fine, but there were hundreds of girls there also dressed in slutty costumes and dangerously drunk, so that can’t be the primary reason why he was chosen out of a crowd.

_You’re so tiny. You’re weak. You’re not even trying._

_Your cock is so small. Are you hiding a pussy between your legs?_

_I wish I could get you pregnant._

_You’re a fucking whore. You want it so bad, princess._

He knows that he’s small. He knows that he’s petite, and not very strong, and that he’s effeminate. He knows these things. And normally he doesn’t feel bad about them; not now that he’s an adult, at least. But this feels bad. Because he should have been able to fucking defend himself, and he couldn’t. He let another man overpower him so easily, and he _knew_ he’d be able to, just from looking at Eddie. And that’s one of the worst parts. Because Eddie fit some sort of fantasy that this guy had, and he ended up proving him right, with how he lied there and took it instead of fighting back like a man. He existed as an object of fetishization, and doesn’t he always? Because he’s soft and small and sensitive and weak.

He’s vaguely aware of Richie trying to get his attention. He has no idea what he’s been saying, but by the way that Richie is smirking at him and has that amused look on his face, he’s sure that he’s saying something along the lines of ‘Earth to Eds; come back, space cadet.’

When Eddie wades through the fog and finds his way back to his body, he’s hoping the thoughts will stay in the faraway land, but they don’t. They stick to his brain and to his tongue and on the inside of his mouth as he comes back to himself, and before he can think about how strange of a thing it is to ask somebody out of the blue, he blurts out “Do you think I’m too feminine?”

Richie looks confused, obviously. He laughs after a moment and ruffles Eddie’s hair, and Eddie knows that Richie thinks he’s joking. “With those maidenly eyes of yours? Practically a vagina with legs.”

“I’m- I’m serious, Rich. Do you think I’m too girly?”

Richie pauses, looking at Eddie with a careful expression. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with men being feminine. Gender is only as important as you make it out to be,” he says slowly, and Eddie is getting frustrated.

“This isn’t a fucking social justice pop quiz, Richie. I just want to know your honest fucking opinion.”

“Well, _honestly_ , I don’t even get what you’re asking, so I’m gonna abstain,” Richie skirts around answering, and Eddie is going to fucking lose it.

“I think it’s a pretty fucking self-explanatory question!”

Richie sighs, taking Eddie’s hands in his own. “I think you’re perfect, baby. I don’t think being ‘too girly’ is a thing, really. I like how soft and pretty you are. I like the way you dress and how you look. So I guess I’m not the person to ask, because my answer would be that no, I don’t think you’re too feminine just because you’re not a gross smelly knuckle dragger who can barely dress himself, like I and most other men are.”

“Well…well I just mean, like… I feel like most guys probably want someone who’s more masculine.”

“Everybody has a type, babe. You’re the physical embodiment of every gay wet dream I’ve ever had, so I guess I’m biased.”

“I mostly just wish I was bigger.”

“Your dick?” Richie laughs, and Eddie goes red.

“My _body,_ you fucking asshole,” Eddie snaps, because he was right, his dick is too small and Richie clearly thinks so, too.

“Your body is perfect, baby,” Richie tells him firmly, but Eddie sort of wants to leave, because he’s getting upset and a little angry and he wishes he hadn’t brought this up.

“Apparently my dick isn’t.”

“It’s part of your body, isn’t it?”

“You just said my dick is too small.”

“I didn’t say it was too small, and I was just messing with you, anyway,” Richie defends, but Eddie isn’t looking at him because he’s upset and he doesn’t want to. So Richie grabs him by the chin and turns Eddie’s head and forces him to look into Richie’s eyes. “I love everything about you. I don’t know where the fuck all of this is coming from right now, but if it wasn’t obvious already, I find literally everything about you so incredibly sexy. From your fucking ridiculously soft hair down to your adorable little toes. Like, I fucking hate feet, but I would literally pay you to step on my face. Even your fucking B.O. smells good, and I am secure enough to admit that I definitely self-indulgently sniffed your pits while you were sleeping.”

“Gross,” Eddie tries to scold him playfully, but his heart isn’t in it.

“You are perfect. I mean that. You’re perfect for me.”

And maybe that’s true, but that doesn’t mean that’s a good thing, either. As much as Eddie is still fucking pissed at Stan, he can’t stop thinking about what he said. _He just wants something cute to hold._ And that’s stressful. Because maybe Richie really does only like him because his appearance fits Richie’s sexual preferences. And that’s shitty, and that hurts to think about. But it would make sense, wouldn't it? They're nothing alike. 

“You just like me because I’m a twink,” Eddie tries to say lightly, but it comes out biting, and Richie’s face drops into that blank, emotionless mask that Eddie can’t decipher.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because that’s what you’re into, right? Would you even have talked to me otherwise?”

Richie takes a deep breath through his nose and Eddie is afraid that he’s going to yell. He tenses up and prepares for it, for Richie to fucking unleash on him, because Eddie is being a dramatic pushy bitch and he’s honestly not even sure why. Why does he do this. Why does he push and push until people reach their limits with him and blow up at him.

“If you’re asking if I initially messaged you almost purely because of your appearance, then the answer is obviously yes, Eddie. It’s a fucking dating app, that’s not a fucking crime. The reasons I continued talking to you after that are because you’re fucking smart, and literally the sweetest person alive, and you have so much interesting, mature, well-thought-out shit to say that it makes me feel like a fucking idiot sometimes trying to keep up with you. You’re so strong, and _brave,_ and complex in a way that kind of freaks me out, because I don’t think I’m mature enough to handle it properly and I don’t want to fuck this up. I like you because you’re fucking wonderful, and because you’re an asshole, and because you don’t put up with my bullshit.” Richie’s voice is so steady and even and calm, and Eddie feels like he’s going to cry. Why does he fucking do this. Why can't he ever shut the fuck up. 

“I-I’m so sorry, Richie, I-”

“Honestly, you should be sorry. I mean, what the fuck, Eddie? Do you seriously think that fucking poorly of me?”

Eddie starts fucking panicking, because he fucked up, and Richie really is mad at him. And honestly, he was feeling so fucking good about everything this morning until Stan fucking ruined it. So this is all Stan’s fault, at the end of the day. Because Eddie wasn’t even thinking about these things until Stan planted the seed there, and he ruined Eddie’s day, and now Eddie is ruining Richie’s and causing a rift between them.

“Well- Well Stan said, this morning, that- that you seem like you only like me because I’m… I’m, like, cute and stuff.”

“Stan doesn’t fucking know anything, and he should keep himself out of my fucking business. I’m getting really fucking sick of this dude thinking he knows fucking anything about me when he doesn’t. He’s so convinced he can read me like a fucking book, and he can’t, and I’m really fucking over it.”

“He got really upset about- about all the hickeys. He said you’re being possessive. He said ‘why doesn’t he just piss on you to mark his territory,’” Eddie continues, and wow, he should stop. He should really stop, but Richie is mad at him, and he just wants Richie not to be mad at him.

“ _I’m_ possessive? That’s fucking hilarious coming from the guy who acts like he’s your fucking father. At least I treat you like an adult and let you make your own fucking decisions,” Richie laughs bitterly before giving Eddie a look that makes the backs of his knees sweaty. “I haven’t done anything to you that you didn’t want me to. He doesn’t know how to mind his own fucking business, and neither of his boyfriends have the fucking balls to put him in his place. Maybe if he was getting good dick too, he wouldn’t need that stick up his ass,” he finishes in a hiss.

“Um, well- well-“

Eddie tries to start a sentence a few different times, but his words feel stuck in his throat. He tries to buy himself some time to decide whether or not he’s going to choose to agree with Richie or not before there’s a knock on the door, and Eddie thanks whatever divine power is looking out for him before he hops over the back of the couch to answer it.

“Who is it?”

“Bev! Forgot my keys!”

Eddie swings the door open to let her inside, and she must sense the tension immediately, because she pauses before walking over the threshold.

“Everything good?” she asks Eddie softly, with a glance down to his neck that is just long enough to be noticeable. He tugs his collar up higher and nods his head, and she doesn’t say anything about it before walking into the living room, where Richie is still sitting on the couch, facing away from them.

“You’re up early from your afternoon nap,” she comments, and Richie only responds with a tense little wave. “You okay, Rich?”

“Peachy.”

Eddie wants to disintegrate into the fucking floor. 

“Um, Richie? Um, I have to go to class,” Eddie says softly, and Beverly is still giving him a curious look that’s making Eddie’s neck sweaty.

“Okay, bye,” he sighs, glancing back at them briefly before standing from the couch to go back into his room.

Once he disappears, Eddie is afraid to look at Bev, because she’s still looking at him, and he doesn’t know what to tell her about what just happened without admitting that he’s an overdramatic bitch who pushes and pushes, and that Richie really didn’t do anything wrong, and he really is justified in being upset. It was Eddie’s fault.

He’s scrambling to think of what he should say when Bev rests a soft hand on his shoulder, though it still nearly startles him out of his skin. “Do you want a ride to class?”

“No, no. You don’t have to do that,” Eddie insists, but Bev is already opening the door and ushering him into the hallway with her keys in her hand.

“Come on.”

Eddie considers arguing again, but he really is going to be late for his bio lab if he tries to walk, and he’s already on pretty thin ice in that class as it is. So he follows Bev out into the hallway, and she doesn’t say anything for the whole walk down to her car, and Eddie can’t tell if she’s mad or not.

Not that she would really have a reason to be mad, he thinks. Unless she’s mad on principle, because he made Richie mad, and Richie is her best friend. That could be reason enough.

He jumps up into her pickup truck and nervously sits with his hands in his lap, and he tries not to notice her glancing at him out of the corner of her eye as she starts the engine and pulls out of the lot.

“Are you alright, Eddie?” she finally asks, and Eddie flinches.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Was Richie being an asshole to you?”

“No!” Eddie nearly yells, and takes a breath before continuing. “No, he wasn’t. He’s just upset because I was telling him about this fight that I got into with Stan this morning, and- and he’s just upset about it. It was totally, totally my fault.”

“That’s not really your fault, babe. Richie tends to be very hot-headed and sort of a total doucher when he’s mad, so don’t be afraid to put him in his place. Seriously. If he’s being a dick, call him out on it,” she says firmly, and Eddie sighs.

“I- I know. I do, I promise. Just- this time, he really didn’t do anything wrong. I provoked him. It was my fault.”

“I have a really, really hard time believing that you provoked him, but sure,” Bev laughs, and Eddie doesn’t know what the fuck that’s supposed to mean.

“I did, I just kept pushing when I should have stopped.”

“Doesn’t excuse him being an asshole to you either way.”

Eddie doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he doesn’t, and instead tells Bev where his bio lab is to fill the silence as they approach the building.

“Thank you for driving me,” Eddie tells her as they pull up to the entrance, and she surprises him by pulling him into a hug from across the bench seat.

“Of course, Eddie. I like you a lot, you know. You’re really great. And…and I know Richie is, like, hard to handle sometimes. Trust me, I’ve been doing it since I was in kindergarten. But he really is a good guy, you know? He really, _really_ likes you. He’s just so emotionally constipated that he shuts down when he has feelings, so don’t take it personally,” she assures with a smile, tucking a piece of Eddie’s hair behind his ear. “All of that being said…don’t feel bad if he’s too much for you, okay? You’ve got to look out for yourself, and Richie is… is complicated, and kind of a giant disaster. His life is a mess that he’s mostly made himself, and it’s not your responsibility to clean it up or live in squalor with him. Okay?”

Eddie feels frozen looking into her earnest green eyes, and for whatever fucking reason, he really just wants to tell her. He wants to tell her what happened, because she would understand, and she would know what to say. And he doesn’t realize how badly he wants to just _tell someone_ until right now, looking at her soft, motherly expression.

It’s been this giant, gross, heavy secret sitting on top of his heart for weeks now, and he just wants to relieve some of the pressure he feels inside of his ribcage. He’s gotten used to it, by now. But it’s an uncomfortable rock sitting in his chest constantly, and maybe it would go away if he tells Beverly what happened. Or maybe it would get a little lighter, at least.

But he can’t. For lots of reasons, but mostly because Beverly is Richie’s friend, and she might tell him. And that’s not something Eddie can handle right now.

“Thank you, Bev. I appreciate that. And the ride. You’re- you’re really amazing, you know that? I don’t know how Richie has managed to keep you around all this time,” he decides to joke lightly instead, and it works, because Beverly laughs her pretty laugh, and her eyes sparkle at him.

“Mostly because I take pity on him.”

“Fair enough.”

“I’ll see you around?” she asks, and Eddie hesitates, biting his lip. Richie invited him over tonight, but he isn’t sure if that offer still stands, considering that they got into a…sort of fight? So maybe Richie won’t want him to come over anymore.

But Eddie should go apologize anyway, so he’ll at least stop by. Just for a bit. And then leave, if Richie wants him to.

“Yeah, I’m gonna come by later, actually.”

Bev looks confused, cocking her head to the side. “Are you going to OGR with him?”

“Um…um, no. I don’t think so.”

“Huh. I thought he was going over there tonight.”

“He asked me this morning if I wanted to come stay the night.”

“Well, good. Better that he spends time with someone like you than with those fucking degenerates.”

“You…you don’t like the frat brothers?”

“No, I fucking hate them, and I wish Richie would stop getting involved with them. But he’s a grown ass man, so whatever,” she huffs, and that voice is begging him _tell tell tell_ again.

“Yeah, they’re not…they don’t seem like very nice people,” Eddie settles on, and Bev rolls her eyes.

“Understatement of the fucking century.”

Eddie wants to ask what that means, and why she hates them so much, but he’s sort of afraid to know. And besides, he really, actually can’t be late for biology.

“Well-Well I gotta go. If I’m late for lab again, my TA said he’s going to dock my next lab report a whole letter grade,” Eddie sighs, already climbing down from the truck’s seat and onto the pavement outside.

“See you later! I’ll grab pizza or something once you get there to spare you having to eat dining hall food tonight,” she offers with her warm smile, and Eddie’s heart floats behind his ribs.

“Thank you, Bev. You’re seriously the nicest person ever.”

“It’s all selfish, really. I’m just hoping someone will finally take Richie off my hands,” she winks, and Eddie laughs and waves before closing the truck door. He watches her drive away, and that frantic piece of his brain is still screeching _Tell her! Tell her! Tell her!_ as he watches her truck disappear onto the road and to the other side of campus again.

He honestly isn’t sure that he absorbs any information at all during his biology lab, which must be obvious, based on the way that his lab partner keeps huffing and correcting him the entire time they’re at the microscope looking at… tiny shrimp? Baby fish? He’s not even sure.

He can’t stop thinking about Beverly. Mostly, he can’t stop thinking about how badly he clearly should tell someone, based on this afternoon with Richie. Because as much as he’s been convincing himself that this hasn’t been bothering him or affecting his life in any significant way, he very clearly can’t let it go. And now he’s fighting with Richie, because he’s an insecure bitch, and that’s honestly scarier than the prospect of just telling someone what fucking happened so that he can be freed from the weight of carrying that knowledge all by himself.

Especially someone like Bev. But she’s Richie’s friend, not his. And it would be reasonable for her to tell him. It’s reasonable that someone should know if their boyfriend got drunk and high and raped at a party. It would be reasonable for Bev to tell him, especially because Eddie won’t.

But that’s terrifying, and that’s why Eddie isn’t going to tell her. But god, does he want to fucking tell someone now that he's made up his mind to. Just to see if it feels any better than breathing around the rock in his chest every day. It might not, but he won’t know until he tries, right?

He still has the crisis hotline’s phone number, and honestly, that would be the best option, wouldn’t it? It’s confidential, it’s private, they won’t tell anyone. Or if they do, it doesn’t matter, because they don’t have to know who Eddie is, do they? He can lie. He can call from a restricted number, and give a fake name, and just talk to them. And he can see if it feels any better telling someone out loud, and if it does, then maybe he can think about telling someone in person. Because he just can’t yet. Not right now.

He’s made up his mind to call by the time his lab gets out, and he nearly sprints back to his dorm before remembering that the trio might be there. He really doesn’t want to see them, but also, he wants to be completely and utterly alone when he makes this phone call. He wants to be able to pretend that it never happened once it’s over.

So he decides to walk back to the tree line behind his dorm where the forest begins, which is sort of a scary place to be, but it’s not dark outside yet. He’s not going to go _into_ the woods, just duck behind a tree so that nobody sees him. He’ll be back before it’s dark, so it’s fine. No big deal.

By the time he’s shamefully tucked behind a tree trunk, clutching his broken phone in his hands, he sort of wants to change his mind because this is so fucking pathetic. Nobody is around to see, sure. But he’s fucking hiding behind a tree in the woods, calling a stranger to tell them the biggest, most shameful secret he’s ever had. He feels gross. Exposed. Like waking up naked in a place he doesn’t recognize all over again.

He stares at the cracked screen displaying the phone number for the hotline for much longer than he should, and he truthfully only ends up pressing the ‘call’ button because he’s getting so cold standing out here. And as soon as the line is ringing, he has that desire to run away again.

But they won’t know it’s him. He’s calling restricted, he can lie about his name. They won’t know, and it’ll be like it never happened.

“Hello, thank you for calling the crisis center this afternoon. We want to get you connected to someone who can assist you as soon as possible, so do you mind if I just ask you a few quick questions?” a female voice asks him softly once the ringing stops, and Eddie feels that light-headed, panicky feeling get worse.

“Um- um, sure.”

“Are you actively considering making an attempt on your life?”

“No!”

“Are you thinking of harming another person, a child or an animal?”

“No, no.”

“Are you in immediate danger?”

“No...”

“Have you recently partaken in self-injurious behaviors?”

“Um…uh, what’s- what’s considered ‘recent?’”

“Within the past month or so.”

“Oh, um. Then no.”

“Last question, and then we can get you chatting with somebody,” she prefaces, and Eddie wants to just hang up. “Have you called the hotline before, and if you feel comfortable sharing, can you tell me who you’ve spoken with on any previous calls?”

Eddie hesitates, because obviously he hasn’t called before, and he isn’t sure why he feels compelled to lie. But he’s lying. “Yeah, I’ve spoken to Beverly before. A few weeks ago.”

“Okay, great. She’s on call right now, if you’d like to speak with her again. Or I can connect you with someone else, whichever you’d prefer.”

Eddie’s brain short circuits and he tries to force words out of his mouth, but he’s having a hard time unpacking the implications of what it would mean if he talked to Beverly _anonymously._ Because she wouldn’t know it’s him, but he would know it’s her, and that’s almost just as good. Right?

“Sir?” the operator asks, and Eddie flinches.

“Uh- Um, yes, please. Connect me to Beverly, please.”

“Okay, she’ll be with you in just a moment,” the operator replies, and then Eddie is listening to some terrible, royalty free hold music, trying to calm his panicked breathing.

He should just hang up. He should hang up and forget about this, because this was a stupid fucking idea, and-

“Hey there! I’m Beverly. Are you comfortable telling me your name?”

Eddie nearly fucking screeches into the phone in panic, trying desperately to come up with a fake name. He should have fucking thought of one before calling. Idiot.

“It’s- it’s Francis.”

“Francis, huh? Old school, I like it. What’s on your mind this afternoon, Francis?” she asks, sounding so cheerful and kind, as if Eddie isn’t about to tell her what he’s been agonizing over for weeks now.

“I’m just- having a really hard time with something,” he answers dumbly, still trying to get psyched up enough to spill his guts.

“Lucky for you, that’s my specialty. Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Just force it. Just force it out, and rip it off like a bandage.

“I- I- a couple of weeks ago, I was- I was-“

“Hey, it’s okay. Please take your time. Nobody is in any rush, okay? No need to stress over it. Just start where you’re comfortable,” Beverly interrupts him politely, and wow, the flood gates are opening. Eddie is already crying before he opens his mouth to speak again.

“I went to this- this Halloween party a few weeks ago, and…and when I was there, somebody drugged me.”

“That must have been terrifying,” she tells him, and she sounds like she means it, and Eddie feels the word vomit coming up. “Do you know what drug it was?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I thought it was molly, but now I think it might have been GHB? I don’t know, I can’t tell. It was- it was one of the worst things that’s ever happened to me. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. I don’t know who did it, but they- he- I didn’t mean to go upstairs with him, I honestly didn’t. I tried to run away, I just- I didn’t even- I couldn’t fight back. And I kept screaming for help but nobody- nobody came to help me. And I know it was my fault, but I- I-“

“Hey, hold on now. Why do you think it was your fault?”

“Because- because I got so drunk. And I was taking drinks from people I didn’t know, and I was- I was on coke. I was on coke and it made me just not give a shit, and I fucked up so bad,” Eddie is crying steadily now, trying to keep the sobs that want to come up inside of his chest.

“That doesn’t make it your fault, Francis. It’s definitely a good idea to be more cautious, but not because it’s your fault that that happened to you. It’s just that you can’t really…you can’t really depend on other people to look out for you and always have your best interests at heart, which sucks. It does. But that doesn’t mean it’s your fault that somebody attacked you,” Beverly assures softly, and Eddie has to bring the phone away from his ear for a moment to let out a few of the sobs that fight their way up.

“It feels like my fault. I think I- I’m pretty sure I agreed to go upstairs with him,” Eddie admits softly, and the thought of it makes him feel like throwing up all over the leaves beneath his feet.

“That still doesn’t make it your fault, sweetheart.”

“I just don’t really believe that, I guess. I guess that’s- that’s the hardest part. Well- well one of the hardest. I don’t know. That’s not really what’s been bothering me the most about it,” he says, and okay, okay. He’s going there. He’s just gonna go all in with this. Fuck it.

“What’s been bothering you most?”

“Well it was- it was- it was my first time. He- he took my virginity.”

“Have you thought of trying to look at it differently than that? Like maybe-“ Eddie interrupts with a pained sound.

“I’ve tried. I’ve tried to convince myself that it was a violent act and not a sexual one, or that virginity doesn’t matter, or whatever. I’ve tried so hard. But I just- I wanted to give my virginity to my boyfriend, and now I can’t, and- and- I’m worried that he’s going to find out,” Eddie admits, and his voice sounds so quiet and pathetic, even in his own ears.

“Well, Francis, pardon me if I’m stepping out of line when I say this, but if your boyfriend views your virginity as a gift to be given to him, then he doesn’t sound like a very good guy,” Beverly says firmly, and Eddie wants to let out a hysterical laugh, because that’s a very Beverly thing to say. “He has no idea what happened?”

“I- I don’t know. I don’t think so. I haven’t told him.”

“So how else would he know?”

“Because- because other people saw. Other people saw what happened to me, and I’m so scared that they told him, or that they will tell him, or- or-“

“I’m not saying that you should have told him or anything, so please don’t take it that way; but I’m curious as to why you’re _afraid_ to tell him,” Beverly asks, and gears are shifting into place inside of Eddie’s brain, and he wishes they wouldn’t.

“Because I’m so ashamed of myself. I’m so ashamed. And he saw how messy I was, and how hard I went, and I’m just worried that he’ll think that I- that I deserved it. Because I think… I think that I deserved it.”

There’s a heavy silence for a moment, and Eddie is terrified that she’s going to change her mind and say that he deserved it, too. That it was his fucking fault for being so stupid, and getting so messy, and not taking care of himself. That he should have known better. That he should have expected it.

“Francis, sweetheart, you didn’t deserve it,” she assures firmly, which is kind of a relief. Eddie still doesn’t know what to say, so he says nothing.

“If your boyfriend was at the same party, how did you lose him? Did you get separated before this happened?”

“He- he had to go do something, and I couldn’t find him. That’s why I- that’s why I went upstairs. I wanted to find him. I just wanted to find him,” Eddie whines miserably, and he hates himself for fucking crying so much, because he should have cried enough tears over this by now. Fuck.

“Did you find him afterwards?”

“No, I- I passed out. And he went home.”

“He went home without you?”

“He- yes, I told him I was with my friends, and he went home after that guy took me upstairs, I think.”

“He didn’t come to check on you before he left?”

“He said he couldn’t find me.”

“So he didn’t think to call you and make sure you got home safe?”

“He- he texted me.”

There’s a long pause, and Eddie feels anxiety crawling around underneath his skin, sitting ice cold all over him like a blanket.

“Sweetheart, once again, I’m not trying to step out of line. But he doesn’t sound like a very good guy,” Bev repeats, and Eddie gets extremely, extremely defensive.

“No, it’s just- just a complicated situation to explain. It was my fault, I lied to him and- and I told him I was okay by myself. It wasn’t his fault.”

“Francis-“

“Please don’t, please don’t,” Eddie begs, because he can’t fucking hear it anymore. He can’t listen to people blame Richie for what he did wrong. It was his fault. It’s just hard to explain that to somebody else because he told a complex web of lies, and that was totally on him. It wasn’t Richie’s fault.

“Okay, I’m sorry, my apologies,” she says softly, and Eddie wonders what she would say if she knew that they’re talking about Richie. If she would be saying the same things. “Did you tell the police what happened?”

“No, I don’t know who it was. It was so dark, I couldn’t see him. And I don’t remember anything- anything about him that would be helpful. I don’t think I even looked at him when I had the opportunity to, it was pretty dark at the party too, and- and the only chance I would have had was in the hallway, but I didn’t even- I didn’t even think about it.”

“You could still try reporting it, just when and where it happened, maybe? Just what details you can remember?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know,” Eddie says frantically, because he doesn’t want to talk to the police. Because they’re going to blame him too, because he was drunk and alone at a party. His recollection of events is unreliable. He was on illegal drugs. They’ll ask what he was wearing. Nothing good will happen if he tells the police.

“Okay, that’s fine, Francis. That’s your choice. Did you see a doctor afterwards?”

“N-No, he didn’t- he didn’t hurt me.”

“Not even for a drug screen? Or an STD test?”

The crawling anxiety explodes all over him, and he can’t control his breathing, and he’s going to fucking pass out in the woods, alone, for some other terrible thing to happen to him.

“I didn’t think about that. Oh my god, oh my god. I- I- my boyfriend, I let him go down on me without a condom, and what if I- what if I-“

“Francis, please take a breath. If you and your boyfriend are considering becoming more sexually active, maybe you could suggest going to get tested together? It’s a good safe sex practice in general,” she suggests, and Eddie bites his lip to try and keep his anxious ramblings inside.

“I don’t- I don’t want it to seem like I’m accusing him of being dirty or something.”

“Has he had sex before?”

“Yes, yeah. Definitely.”

“Then you’re not accusing him of anything, it’s just a precaution. That way you can be on equal ground. And if something unfortunately does come up in the screening, you can face it together,” she says calmly, almost casually, like Eddie didn’t run the risk of giving Richie an STD that he might unknowingly have because he’s a fucking idiot and didn’t think to get an STD test. He can’t help thinking how very unlike him that is, and that’s when he realizes just how much he’s been repressing his internal monologue when it tries to speak to him about this. And that’s a scary thought all on its own.

“I- yeah, okay. Yes. That’s a good idea.”

“Everybody processes things differently, everyone handles things at their own pace. But make sure you’re taking care of yourself, especially if you’re going to start becoming sexually active with your boyfriend after this happened. Just talk to him about it in whatever way you're most comfortable with.”

Eddie pauses again before saying this next part, because he’s not sure if he wants to, but he never wants to call this line again. So this might be his only opportunity to get advice on this.

“That’s- that’s another thing that’s been making me feel so…so bad, and so ashamed of myself.”

“What’s that?”

“I just…I want to have sex so badly. I feel like I’m so- I’m so focused on it. I’m so- I’m so horny, _all the time_ , and that’s so fucking humiliating,” he tries to say calmly, but his voice is cracking by the end.

“It could just be because you’re starting to become sexually active with your boyfriend as well, Francis. It doesn’t mean that it’s some shameful, horrible thing; it doesn’t mean it’s because of what happened.”

“How do I know the difference?”

“Do you need to? It’s not bad to want sex, it’s perfectly normal to want to have sex with your boyfriend. You don’t have to take a vow of celibacy because of what happened. Sex, for some people, can be a way of healing from trauma like this. Learning to take control over your sexual self is empowering for a lot of assault survivors,” Bev explains eloquently, and Eddie is compelled to believe her because of how sure she sounds.

But he can’t.

“I’m afraid that I want to have sex so badly because- because he was right, and that I – I liked it.”

“Not true. You can’t help your biological responses to certain stimuli, Francis. That’s outside of your control. That’s different than ‘liking it.’”

“I just want to be normal,” Eddie cries, and he tries really hard to refrain from sounding like an edgy character in a teen drama, but it probably still sounds that way to Beverly’s ears. “Like, I got so excited this morning because I let my boyfriend give me a blowjob without having a panic attack. How pathetic is that?”

“Not pathetic at all. That’s something you should be proud of if it made you feel good and gave you some control back.”

“I just want to have a normal sex life.”

“And that’s entirely possible, as long as you’re processing everything.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Have you considered seeing a counselor on campus?” she suggests gently, like she’s expecting him to blow up at the suggestion.

“I don’t- I don’t want to go to therapy.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because it makes me feel like something is wrong with me.” Sort of true. More that it’s because he _knows_ something is wrong with him already, and he doesn’t want to be reminded of it constantly.

“Personally, I think everyone should go to therapy. I go to therapy myself. Even the most well-adjusted people on earth could benefit from therapy. It doesn’t mean something is wrong with you,” Beverly offers in support, but Eddie is unconvinced.

“I don’t know.”

“Will you think about it, at least?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“There’s no way I could get you to come down to the center for an intake appointment? Just to get your information in the system? You don’t even have to schedule a session today,” Beverly pushes, and Eddie wishes he could say yes. He really does.

“I- I don’t think so.”

“I could meet you there, even, if that would help you feel better about it,” she tries one last time, and it truthfully might have been a helpful offer if Eddie wasn’t quietly panicking this entire time about lying to Beverly, and how horrified he’ll be if she ever finds out that he’s on the other end of this phone call.

“I’m sorry, I can’t. I can’t. Not now, please.”

“Okay, that’s okay. No pressure. But we’re always here if you need us, and you can always call and ask to talk to me, okay?”

“Thanks, Beverly. I- I appreciate this more than I can tell you.”

“It’s no problem at all, Francis.”

Eddie knows he should hang up, but he can’t stop himself from asking one last question that he shouldn’t ask.

“Do you think- do you think- if my boyfriend knew, do you think he would say something? I mean, obviously you don’t know him or anything, _obviously_ , but- but it would be weird if he didn’t say something about it, right? Like if somebody told him, he would have said something to me about it by now, right?”

Beverly takes a breath before responding.

“Want my honest opinion?”

“Please.”

“It depends, I think.”

“On what?”

“On what kind of person he is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just stretched my ears up to 14mm and honestly, nobody tells you that the radiating pain in your ears can trigger migraines so there’s your fun fact for the evening, I’m your host, Dumb Bitch Who Didn’t Wait Long Enough Between Stretches
> 
> Y’all pls don’t be stupid and irresponsible with drugs. I was worried for a sec while I was writing this chap like ‘hmm does it seem like I’m glorifying hard drug use’ and then I re-read the OD scene last chap and felt better about it but still. Most of the drugs mentioned in this fic operate on flooding and depleting your dopamine receptors and it feels like shit when you come down and it’s dangerous and just don’t do it, stay safe out there, take care of yourselves and your loved ones. Drugs aren’t worth it, spare yourself learning that lesson the hard way.


	5. Inhaled to match your rhythm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You live in the back of my throat  
> Folded up there.
> 
> You live in my cavities  
> Empty spaces of my body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ 'Eager to be Held' playlist for your disaster angst reading needs](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2u8K6ocYs6En71YbXDFMZ9?si=n-W6SVGmQk2m4PVTVUI8lg)   
>  [ Come bother me on Tumblr ](https://bimmyshrug.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Hey guys! I'm sorry this update was much later than my updates usually are, I've just been having some issues with my health recently and I had to take a bit of a break to take care of myself. 
> 
> Honestly, y'all, I'm really not trying to make every chapter longer than the last. It just keeps fucking happening, even though I'm trying so hard to be good.
> 
> Big shout out to my friend Alice, this chapter is dedicated to her for reminding me to sleep and feed myself because I'm a moron baby who doesn't know how to take care of myself. 
> 
> I cannot tell you all how much I appreciate your support and I am doing my best to stay on top of things, but my upload schedule is probably going to slow down a bit, and I apologize in advance. I just gotta look out for my health and my quality of life a little better, and I really wish I could put this fic higher on my list of priorities, but life unfortunately isn't that kind.
> 
> Thank you all so much for your support and feedback, seriously. I fully fleshed out my story outline a few days ago and used a lot of the analytical comments that you guys have posted as a reference for doing so, and seriously, hearing your thoughts and opinions on the story are helping my writing process so much, so thank you. You guys are all so lovely, and I find myself thinking about your comments throughout the day and smiling like an idiot because they're so kind and make me feel so nice.
> 
> ALSO realized I haven't mentioned literally once this entire time that the title of the fic is from "Handsome Devil" by the Smiths!! Which becomes obvious in this chap, but better late than never lol. It's one of my favorite songs of all time, and it's included on the playlist I have for this fic (which is a disaster and I honestly don't recommend it unless you like a Real Trip). 
> 
> Anyway, TW/CW below so read at your own discretion, as always. Please enjoy guys!!
> 
> //////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////  
> TW/CW: blood, drug and alcohol use, verbal arguments, homophobic language, rape aftermath, vomit, disordered eating, physical violence, ableist language/ slurs, sexual content (nothin too explicit), dirty talk, daddy kink, spanking, degradation, bad bdsm etiquette, hating on Catholicism/ allusions to religious abuse, a joke about child molestation  
> /////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Mike is sincerely considering turning his phone off after the 4th time that Stan tries to call him. He ignores it, _again,_ and throws his phone onto his bed before shrugging out of his jacket, but before he can even hang it back up in his closet, his phone is ringing again.

He lets out a frustrated groan before snatching his phone from his bedspread, and hits the ‘accept call’ button much more aggressively than he needs to.

“What, Stan? What do you want?”

“Mike, please. Can you please just let me come over so we can talk? I’m sorry,” Stan begs, and Mike is surprised by how unaffected he feels listening to Stan’s desperate voice over the line.

“No. I don’t want to see you. You really betrayed my trust, Stan. I told you that because I was worried about Eddie, and you turned it into something to throw into his face. And why? Just because you don’t like his boyfriend? Get over it, Stan. Seriously, I’m sick of doing this with you.”

“I wasn’t trying to throw it in his face, I just- I’m worried, Mike. I’m just trying to look out for him.”

“What you did at lunch today was not looking out for him. You attacked him. You think I wasn’t also concerned seeing how bruised up he is? Of course I was. But jumping down his throat and insulting the man that he very _clearly_ has strong feelings for wasn’t the move, Stan, and you know that. So don’t sit there and try to tell me that you did that because you were worried about him. You did it because you’re pissed off that he won’t listen to you,” Mike says firmly, and something in his heart finally tugs when he hears Stan make that little gasping sound that he does when he’s trying not to cry.

“I- I know, Mikey, I’m sorry. I just got so frustrated, and I didn’t know what to do anymore. I know that I stepped out of line.”

“You leaped over the line.”

“He won’t listen! He’s so convinced that Richie is…I don’t know, it just seems like he’s so dependent on him, and I’m worried, Mike. Richie is…he’s strange. There’s something off about him.”

“Is there? Or do you just disagree with his lifestyle, so you’re grasping at straws to try and convince yourself that he’s a bad guy?”

“He marked Eddie up like property. The way he talks about him is objectifying. I can’t believe they haven’t had sex yet, if he’s letting Richie bruise him up like this already. I mean, who knows, Richie was talking about ‘piping’ him the day after they fucking met.”

And suddenly, Mike remembers those bruises on Eddie’s hips. He had nearly forgotten, because it seemed so insignificant at the time. But that doesn’t add up with what Eddie has been saying these past few days, does it? Mike hasn’t thought all that much about it until now, and he doesn’t want to feed into Stan’s paranoia, but he can’t help wondering what that’s all about. 

“I don’t…I don’t think that was true. I think he was lying about that.”

“Why?”

“I just…Stan, if I tell you this, I will lose my mind if you tell Eddie. I mean it. I will not forgive you.”

“I won’t, I promise. I promise.”

“I just remembered that he had these bruises on his hips when they went out for tacos. I was trying to help him pick out an outfit, and when he was changing, I saw them. They were definitely…definitely from sex. I mean, I don’t know. They looked like you do sometimes after we –“

“Mike!”

“Sorry, I just mean- you know what I mean. And he told me the other day that he’s a virgin, too, but… that doesn’t add up to me. I mean, he said that he told _Richie_ he was a virgin, which makes even less sense. Which, I guess the bruises could have been from something else, but… but I seriously, seriously doubt it.”

“He told you he was a virgin?”

“Yeah. Like, yesterday morning. I didn’t think much of it at the time because I didn’t really have any reason to. I don’t know why he would lie to me about being a virgin, it’s not like it matters to me. So…I don’t know. Maybe he’s lying to Richie?”

“Are you saying that you don’t think he had sex with Richie? Like that he had sex with somebody else?”

“I don’t know, I guess, maybe. I mean, if he’s telling Richie that he’s a virgin even though I’m fairly certain that he isn’t, then that means it had to have been with somebody else, right?”

“Did he tell you what Richie said about it?”

“He said he was weird about it. Well, he said that he was _nice_ about it, but then he said that he’s pretty sure Richie was avoiding him because of it.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“That just…doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, does it?”

______________________________________________________________

On his walk back from the woods, Eddie can’t decide if he feels better or not. He thought it would feel like this great weight being lifted off of his heart and his lungs, like he’d be able to take a deep breath in and breathe out the weight of all of this afterwards. That’s not really what happened, at all.

He does feel better, though, he thinks. It feels nice to have told someone, and be completely honest about it. It feels even better that Beverly still believes he didn’t deserve what happened, even after knowing how stupid and irresponsible Eddie was that night. He doesn’t really believe that himself still, but it’s nice to hear that someone else does.

More than anything now, he feels terrible for provoking Richie earlier, because it was entirely a product of him overthinking and projecting his insecurities. He knows that. And truthfully, part of him feels like maybe he wanted Richie to yell at him. That’s what he expected to happen, at least. It almost hurts worse that he didn’t.

He’s sure that Richie doesn’t want to talk to him, but he figures it doesn’t hurt to just send a text.

_E: Richie I’m so so sorry_

_It’s been a really really weird couple of days for me. Just with my birthday and everything_

_I’m so sorry that I accused you of being shallow. I’m just hypersensitive rn about my appearance and my everything_

_I mean not that I’m not always like that but_

_You know what I mean. I’m just having a really hard time and I’m sorry I put that on you. I understand if you don’t want to see me later anymore_

_I promise I’m trying to be less of a disaster._

He cringes reading over the (way too many) texts that he sent, but whatever. It’s all the truth, and that’s what’s important. Telling the truth. He’s going to make a real, conscious effort to do that more. To be honest with Richie.

He knows he should be honest with Richie about everything, really, but that feels a little too scary right now. He just told one person, he’s definitely not ready for a second, especially since Richie is definitely still mad at him about earlier. And besides, Richie still has his secrets, so Eddie is allowed a few as well. Richie still never told him whatever the weird, cryptic shit he was alluding to the other day was all about. But hey, they agreed to try to be honest with each other over time, and they can work on that. And really, the most important thing he took from his conversation with Beverly is that he should be honest with Richie about sex.

And that’s scary all on its own, even without taking his assault into consideration. Mostly because saying to your brand new boyfriend “Hey, I’m sort of terrified to have sex, but I also really, _really_ want to! Is that an emotional responsibility you’re willing to take on just in case I break down with your dick inside of me?” is not a vibe.

Richie could have his pick of other students on campus, for sure. He’s charming, and attractive, and sociable. He’s so talented and charismatic. Eddie truthfully isn’t sure why Richie decided on him, of what must be countless options available to him, but hey. He doesn’t need to know, right? It’s Richie’s decision. And if the decision he wants to make is to settle below his league, then so be it.

Beverly said to be honest. And Mike also said to be honest yesterday morning, when Eddie confided in him, which he apparently should not have done. Ugh. Between Mike and Stan, it’s like he has two fathers, and they’re constantly playing “Good Cop/Bad Cop” with him. Honestly, he’s just so fucking sick of it. So, so sick of it.

Before today, he could talk himself out of being so mad by reasoning that they’re just concerned about him, but he doesn’t really understand what the fuck they’re so worried about anyway. He’s just doing what Stan said to do.

Stan said he should get a Tinder and start talking to guys. Why is it such a terrible crime that he fell for the first guy he talked to? Stan has been in love with the same two people since he was thirteen, for fucks sake. It’s not like he’s the best role model for playing the field.

And regardless, he’s treating Eddie like a child, and that’s the worst part of it all. Richie was right. Eddie didn’t really see it that way at first, he didn’t really consider Stan’s concern _controlling,_ but it is. It’s fucking suffocating. He’s capable of making his own fucking decisions. Stan is apparently so concerned about Richie being possessive and controlling, but at least Richie treats him like a fucking adult.

Richie said that Stan needs to let him make his own mistakes, and isn’t that exactly what his mother never let him do? She made every decision in his life for him. The first real decision he remembers making for himself was to kiss a boy, and that was the first thing to ever make him feel closer to understanding who he is. Maybe that’s why his mom is so upset that he’s gay. Maybe it’s not even because he’s a faggot, it’s just because he did something that she told him not to.

Maybe Stan is just mad because Eddie didn’t immediately listen to him when he said that he doesn’t like Richie.

And now he and Mike apparently have little gossip sessions together where they talk about Eddie’s personal business and insecurities. That’s cool. Fuck both of them, and fuck Bill by proxy.

Well, that’s not fair. Bill has more or less stayed out of this altogether, which Eddie is incredibly thankful for, actually. Because it’s not Bill’s place. He was okay with Mike involving himself in Eddie’s business when he was being supportive, but now Stan has clearly turned Mike against him and Richie, and now Eddie sort of regrets ever talking to Mike about any of this in the first place.

Mostly he just doesn’t understand what the big fucking deal is. It’s not like they’re getting married. It’s not like they’re talking about eloping. They _just_ made things official. They haven’t even had sex yet, for fucks sake.

And yeah, okay, Eddie can admit that Richie is kind of possessive, but… is that a bad thing? Well _obviously_ it’s not a great thing, but Eddie kinda likes it. As much as it pisses him off sometimes, he sort of likes when Richie gets jealous. He could definitely do without the associated assholery, but knowing that Richie wants Eddie all to himself…it makes him feel good. As embarrassed as he is by the hickeys Richie gave him, he really likes those, too. Does that mean there’s something wrong with him?

What the fuck is wrong with wanting to be wanted? Stan is acting like Richie held him down and did it against his will. He didn’t. Eddie said it was okay, he gave permission. So why is it such a big fucking deal? It’s his fucking body.

Bev said that regaining control might help him to feel better, and that’s what he did. He regained control by being intimate with Richie. He didn’t look at it that way at the time, but he fucking did. And he’s proud of that. So fuck Stan.

By the time he makes it back to his dorm building, he’s absolutely determined not to take any shit if the trio ends up being in his room when he gets back. He’s done. He’s on a fucking tear now, and he’s not taking their smothering, coddling bullshit.

He’s not very surprised to find just Mike in their room, sitting on his bed as though he’s been waiting for Eddie to get back. Which makes Eddie mad all over again, because he doesn’t need them keeping tabs on him. He’s a grown adult.

“Hey Eddie,” Mike tries gently, and Eddie busies himself with rummaging through his backpack to avoid Mike’s gaze.

“Hi.”

“Eddie, I’m…I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-“

“Don’t really want to hear it, Mike.”

Mike is silent for a moment, and Eddie almost believes that he’ll actually give up that easily.

“Are you…are you okay?”

“Never better.”

“Eddie, you know that we don’t dislike Richie, right? We just-“

“Jesus fucking Christ, Mike! Just fucking stop! You’re almost as bad as Stan is!” Eddie yells, losing his patience. “I’m a grown man, okay? I don’t need you coddling me! I shouldn’t have to fucking report back to you when I’m going out, or when I’m on a date, or _ever._ I’m a fucking adult. I can make my own decisions. I don’t need your fucking blessing to be with whoever I want to be with, and I definitely don’t need to listen to Stan’s disapproval. If you guys were really my friends, you’d fucking lay off and treat me like an adult.”

“You’re right, Eddie. You’re right. But we’re your friends, and we care about you. We’re concerned, Eddie.”

“I don’t want your fucking concern. I regret ever talking to you about this in the first place.”

Mike flinches like Eddie’s words physically hurt him, and Eddie is surprised when he doesn’t find himself feeling bad about it at all.

Mike just stares at him for a moment, with this look in his eyes like he’s trying to see underneath Eddie’s skin and into his mind, and Eddie starts panicking. But he holds his ground and doesn’t look away, determined not to let Mike’s scrutiny prevent him from finally standing up for himself.

He’s not sure how long they stay like that, just staring at each other, but it’s so quiet in the room that Eddie flinches when his phone starts ringing, and then he’s scrambling to grab it out of the pocket of his backpack.

_All the streets are crammed with things  
Eager to be held  
I know what hands are for  
And I'd like to help myself  
You ask me the time  
But I sense something more  
And I would like to give  
What I think you're asking for_

“Hello?” he nearly yells into the phone once he answers it, then cringes at the volume of his voice. “Hi, sorry. Hi,” he tries again, and he’s relieved to hear Richie let out a small laugh from the other end of the phone call.

“I see you’re still grumpy.”

“Just been the longest fucking day of my life,” Eddie grumbles, then turns his back to Mike when he notices him still looking over at him. “Did you- did you get my texts?”

“Yeah. I appreciate you apologizing. Sorry I got so mad, I just, like… I don’t know, man. I really like you, Eddie. If somebody else accused me of being shallow, like, I’d get it. But I really, _really_ like you. And I thought I made that pretty obvious, but I guess I’m not doing as great of a job as I thought.”

“No! No, you are. It’s- it’s me. I’m just so fucking…” Eddie lets out a small, hysterical laugh that startles himself a little. “I’m just fucking insecure, dude, I don’t know what to tell you. I promise I won’t do shit like this over the course of our entire relationship. Um….if we’re still in one, that is,” Eddie leads gently, but he’s already getting sweaty in his armpits and behind his kneecaps.

“Why, getting sick of me already?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I don’t think I’m capable of getting sick of you. That being said, it would be chill if we could, like… chill with the freak outs. I mean, I get it. I know you’re basically just pixie dust and anxiety. But I really like you, Eddie. I don’t know what else to do to convince you of that,” Richie tells him softly, and Eddie feels a stabbing sensation in his chest. “I’m also gonna try to stop being such a dickhead. Bev thoroughly chewed me out when she got back from dropping you off. Sorry I didn’t offer to drive you. And that I just bailed. I don’t do well with that type of shit. My knee-jerk reaction when people are pissing me off is to just be like ‘fuck you’ and flip out. So it’s weird, because I don’t want to do that with you, obviously. I’m just not good at confrontation, I’m too used to just being an asshole. So I’ll work on it.”

“It’s okay, I understand. I’m not good at, like, realizing when I’m taking things too far. I didn’t mean to make you so mad. I really don’t- I don’t think you’re shallow, Richie. I don’t.”

“If I do shit that makes you uncomfortable, you know you can tell me, right? I’m not trying to, like, make it seem like this is all about sex to me. It isn’t. I thought maybe this morning was just, like, too much for you-“

“No! It wasn’t, it wasn’t. It was- it was perfect. I just…” Eddie doesn’t want to tell Richie what he’s thinking while Mike is in the room, and honestly, he sort of wishes Mike would take the hint and leave. “I’m just clueless.”

Richie pauses, and Eddie chances a glance back at Mike to see him on his bed, pretending to occupy himself with his phone. “Right, yeah. I can be less intense next time, sorry. I just got carried away.”

“No! No, it’s okay,” Eddie assures, then pauses, gnawing gently at his lip. “I actually do have something else I want to talk to you about, though. I was hoping maybe tonight? If you still want to hang out? No pressure if you don’t, or if you want to go do whatever else you were planning on doing tonight at OGR instead. I totally get it,” Eddie lies, because he will definitely be inconsolably upset if Richie changes his mind and goes to the frat instead of hanging out with him.

Richie sighs, and Eddie’s heart sinks. “Um…no, I definitely still want you to come over. I just have some shit I have to go do first, so are you cool with coming over at, like, 10? I can come get you so you don’t have to walk.”

Eddie’s heart couldn’t sink any lower. “I- I- Yeah, I mean…yes, if that’s what you want.” He does not want to be in a room with Mike and potentially Stan and Bill for hours, waiting for Richie to finish whatever the fuck he’s doing.

Richie pauses again, and Eddie is just about to backtrack and apologize for being passive aggressive. “I mean…you can come with me, if you really want to.”

That icy feeling starts to prickle up underneath Eddie’s skin, and he tries to force it away before it covers his whole body. “I’ll just wait. It’s okay.”

“You sure? It’s not…most of the brothers won’t even be there, if that makes you feel better.”

Eddie wants to scream. “No, really. It’s cool. I’ll just get some homework done and…and stuff. Don’t worry about it.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Super sure.”

“Okay, well I’ll see you later then. I hope the rest of your day is less chaotic. Sorry again about this afternoon.”

“I’m sorry, too. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, baby doll.”

Eddie groans and tosses his phone onto his bed before he remembers that Mike is in the room, and he takes a breath before turning back around to address him.

“I really don’t want to spend all day awkwardly sitting in a room with you while there’s this weird tension, so can we please just move on, Mike?”

Mike hesitates, looking at Eddie with almost frightened eyes. “I just… don’t want you to think that you can’t talk to me, Eddie. You can.”

“Clearly I can’t.”

“You can, I promise. I’m sorry, I just- I was worried, and I panicked.”

“Well, if you want me to confide in you, you probably should have thought about that before telling Stan my personal business, Mike. I don’t know what to tell you,” Eddie holds firm, and Mike’s eyes look shiny. That almost breaks him, but he steels himself and takes a breath, forcing himself to stay strong even when Mike presses the heels of his hands into his eyes to force away his tears.

“Okay, yeah. You’re right. I’m sorry,” he finally says, and a small bubble of pride swells in Eddie’s chest because he successfully held his ground.

“Thank you for apologizing.”

He really does try to do his homework and be productive for a little while, but time is dragging on so fucking slowly, and he feels like he’s going stir crazy sitting in this room with Mike while this awkward tension still hangs in the air between them.

He decides to just get up and pack his bag now, so that way, maybe he’ll stop thinking about how much longer he has to wait for Richie to be done doing… doing whatever. Whatever he’s doing that’s taking him until fucking 10 at night.

He’s busying himself with picking a few outfit options and carefully packing them into his overnight bag when there’s a gentle knock on the door, and his head whips around to Mike, who’s looking at him with wide eyes.

“Are you fucking serious, Mike?”

“I didn’t ask him to come over!”

Eddie huffs before ripping the door open to see Stan standing on the other side, looking so stressed that it takes some of the heat out of Eddie’s temper.

“What do you want, Stan?”

Stan drags a hand through his hair before dropping his hands to his sides, and he has his shoulders hunched in the poorest show of posture that Eddie has ever seen from him.

“Can I just come in? Please?”

“Why?”

“I want to talk to you.”

“Nothing to talk about.”

“I want to apologize.”

Eddie hesitates, biting his lip in thought. The daring, angry part of him that he’s been guided by all day is telling him to say ‘fuck no’ and tell Stan to go away. But the rest of him figures that Stan must really be upset about this, based on how stressed out and tired he looks. And Eddie is mad at him, but he’s not so mad that he wants Stan agonizing over this all night, so he steps aside and gestures for him to come inside.

Eddie sits on his bed and faces Stan where he’s seated on Mike’s bed, and Mike keeps glancing at the door like he’s considering leaving.

Stan takes a deep breath and rubs at the corners of his eyes before looking at Eddie, and he looks so genuinely distressed that Eddie’s tough exterior crumbles a bit seeing it.

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean to cross a line. I’m just worried about you,” Stan begins, and Eddie has to physically stop himself from stomping his foot. He can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes, though.

“What the fuck are you so worried about?!” Eddie shrieks, because he doesn’t fucking understand what the big fucking deal is, and if someone doesn’t tell him soon, he’s going to freak the fuck out.

“How fast you’re moving with Richie.”

“Well it’s not any of your fucking business, is it?”

Stan takes a breath and glances at Mike, who looks down into his lap to avoid Stan’s gaze.

“I know that it’s not my place, Eddie. And I realize the way I approached you earlier was…was unacceptable. I know that. But…the hickeys, and the way you two talk to each other, the way Richie behaves around you…it’s all sort of worrying. I wasn’t trying to condescend to you earlier, but the reason I asked about if you two are practicing safe sex is because-“

“I told you we’re not having sex,” Eddie hisses, and Stan sighs again, glancing over at Mike a second time, who is still occupying himself with picking at his cuticles. Eddie narrows his eyes at them and feels himself getting more and more irritated as this conversation goes on.

“Eddie, you don’t… you know you don’t have to lie, right?” Stan offers gently, and Eddie clenches his fists at his sides so hard that he can feel his nails dig into his palms.

“I’m not fucking lying. Richie and I are not having sex, which, like I said earlier, isn’t really your fucking business in the first place.”

Stan pauses, and Eddie thinks he’s going to glance at Mike a third time, but instead he rubs the corners of his eyes again before looking Eddie in the eyes.

“Then who are you having sex with?”

“Nobody! What the fuck are you talking about?”

This time Mike looks up on his own, and Eddie starts panicking when he sees the pained look on his face. He glances at Stan and takes a breath before speaking, and Eddie is starting to feel like this is a fucking intervention or something.

“Eddie, you’ve been… you’ve been acting weird. And I’m not… I’m not trying to invade your privacy or anything. But it’s just… it’s worrying that you feel like you have to lie about it. It’s okay if you’re having sex, we’re not your parents. We just want to make sure you’re being safe,” Mike offers gently, but Eddie still doesn’t fucking understand.

“I told you we aren’t having sex, that isn’t a fucking lie.”

Mike takes another breath before continuing, and Eddie is still vibrating under his skin with anxiety, to the point where he wants to scream at Mike to just fucking _say it,_ because Eddie is two seconds away from having a meltdown.

“Eddie, I wasn’t like… creeping on you or anything, okay? I promise. But when you were changing, when you and Richie were going on that date, I saw those bruises you had. And… and I just sort of played it off because it’s not my business, you know? But then you told me that you’re a virgin, and… and I don’t really understand why you’d lie to _me_ of all people about that. And then I was just… sort of thinking about it, and I realized that a lot of what you’ve been doing and saying recently hasn’t been making a ton of sense. And I’m just…” Mike trails off with a shaky sigh, and Stan rests a hand on his knee.

“We’re worried, Eddie, and we don’t know what’s the truth and what isn’t. We just want to help. There’s clearly something going on with you.”

Eddie’s brain shuts down for a moment and he just stares at them, with what he’s sure is a horribly terrified look on his face.

There’s just a loop in his brain repeating _caught, caught, caught!_ over and over, and he wants to think of something to say, he wants to think of an excuse, but more so, he wants to run the fuck away.

Mike and Stan are both still staring at him, and he’s desperately trying to string a coherent thought together, but he feels like he’s grasping at smoke. He sees their expressions turn from solemn to confused, and his brain snaps into place like an elastic, frantically trying to come up to speed.

He could say the bruises were from something else, but that’s not believable, is it? He definitely wouldn’t believe it himself. So he could say that he lied and that he and Richie have been having sex, but then he’s admitting to lying, and he would look like a giant asshole for being so insistent on the fact that they haven’t been having sex for no reason. And that still wouldn’t explain his telling Mike that he’s a virgin. So that’s a wash, too.

He could say that he slept with someone who wasn’t Richie, but that still wouldn’t explain him lying about his virginity. And on top of that, it wouldn’t quell their concerns any if he admits to having sex with random strangers, and that could make this whole situation worse.

Which leaves one option: just telling the fucking truth. Just coming clean, and telling them the truth, and explaining why he’s been so fucking weird these past few weeks. And honestly, Eddie knows that Mike didn’t talk to Stan to betray his trust. He knows that telling them will be okay, because they won’t tell anyone else something so serious and so personal. They’ll help him get better. That rock sitting in his chest might get even lighter than it did after telling Beverly. And he doesn’t really have any other choice than to be honest at this point, right?

He takes a deep breath, and he can already feel the tears coming before he even starts.

“Fuck the both of you. Stay the fuck out of my business. I don’t know where you get off acting like my fucking parents, but that’s not why I came to college. So take your overbearing, coddling bullshit and shove it up your fucking asses. I don’t have to fucking explain myself to you. I’m leaving, and the both of you can fuck right off. Matter of fact, all three of you can fuck right off. I’m done.”

Stan looks shocked and Mike looks despaired, but Eddie doesn’t waste any time staring them down before he’s frantically shoving the rest of his stuff into his overnight bag.

“Eddie…” Stan tries, and Eddie feels it burn his skin.

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up, I don’t want to hear it. I’m leaving. And before you fucking ask, no, I don’t know when I’ll be home, and I don’t have to report back to you, either,” he bites, zipping his bag up so quickly that the zipper catches on his skin and draws a drop of blood. He sucks his finger into his mouth before slinging his backpack on, and he grabs his overnight bag as well before stomping towards the door.

“Eddie, can we please just talk about this?”

“No!”

“Eddie, I’m fucking scared! You’re freaking me out!” Stan is hysterical at this point, and Eddie wants to give in, but he’s already this far.

“Then try worrying about your fucking self for once!” he screams before stepping out into the hallway and slamming the door behind him.

He finds himself running once he’s out of the room, running down the hall, and then down the pathway outside of his dorm, and he keeps running until his fucking arms hurt from carrying the weight of his bags and he has to take a break. He wants to keep running but he just can’t, he just can’t anymore, and his arms feel so tired.

He finds himself throwing his bags down in the grass in front of the library, and he throws himself onto the ground next to them. He wants to cry, but there are students milling about, and he’s already drawn enough attention to himself.

He considers going into the library, but something about it is making him feel sick to his stomach. Maybe it’s the thought of being somewhere so quiet when he wants to scream. Or maybe it’s something about the spire jutting into the sky from the clock tower on top of the building, begging him to make space for it right in the center of himself.

He tears his eyes away from the building and lies back on the cold grass, and now he feels really stupid for running away. But what the fuck else was he supposed to do? He felt like he was going to have a fucking panic attack sitting in that fucking room with Mike and Stan and their prying eyes and questions.

He takes his phone out of his pocket and brushes away a few pieces of glass that got knocked loose from the screen before pulling up his messages.

He knows Richie is busy. He knows that. But he doesn’t know what the fuck else to do, or where else to go right now that won’t leave him making a public fool of himself and his disastrous ass. But it’s fine, because he’s not going to call. He’s just gonna text him to see where he is.

_E: Hope everything is going well. Do you still think you’re gonna be busy until 10?_

He lies back to stare up at the gray sky until he gets a text back minutes later, and he drops his phone onto his face in his enthusiasm to unlock it.

_R: Awe, do you miss me Eddie baby? That’s precious_

_E: I changed my mind. Perish._

_R: I might be done a little sooner but yeah, I’m gonna be busy for a while_

_If you’re a good boy and get all your homework done while you’re waiting for me, I’ll give you a reward later_

_E: What kind of reward?_

_R: Be good and you’ll find out_

_E: You’re a butthole_

_R: Can I be yours, at least?_

_E: You’re gross_

_R: Yeah, but you like it more than you let on_

_You secretly love getting dirty_

_E: Rats, you figured me out. Guess I can stop showering now since you’ve seen past my façade_

_R: I could get into that actually. Your BO smells like candy anyway_

_E: You’re legitimately filthy and truthfully I don’t know if I want that reward anymore_

_R: Never said it was a sexy reward but hey, if you’re asking for it_

_I’d be happy to have you naked in my bed later_

_We can find out what you sound like while you’re choking on my cock_

_E: Wow, whatever happened to subtlety?_

_R: Waste of time, you already agreed to be my boyfriend. Now you’re trapped_

_E: Btw how exactly is it a reward for me if you’re the one getting your dick sucked?_

_R: Because I know you want me to fuck that pretty little face of yours_

_I could see it in your eyes kitten_

_And the way you kept licking your lips when you were watching me jerk off_

_I can’t help but give you what you want_

_E: How generous of you_

_R: Practically selfless to a fault, really_

_E: Bye asshole_

_R: Farewell, my love_

Well, fine. Okay. Fine. At least they’re still hanging out later, right? Holding out hope that Richie wouldn’t be busy was stupid, anyway. He said 10pm, he meant 10pm. That’s fine.

Eddie really wishes he had Beverly or Ben’s phone numbers right about now, because then he could, at the very least, beg them to let him into their apartment so he can wallow and nap in Richie’s bed alone while he waits. He considers just walking across campus to see if either of them are home, but he’s just so fucking tired. His body hurts. He honestly doesn’t know if he’d even be able to make it all the way there.

He could call Bill, but the chances of Bill trying to convince him to talk to Stan and Mike again are very high, and Eddie definitely doesn’t want to deal with that right now.

And just like that, he’s exhausted his list of friends/acquaintances.

Sort of. There’s one other person he could call.

But honestly, bothering Troy again when he’s having a dramatic breakdown is so extra. Like, the poor guy is going to think this is just how Eddie is all the time. Which wouldn’t be untrue, but it’s not his responsibility to deal with it. He just wanted to be friends, he didn’t ask for Eddie to be a dramatic mess in his immediate vicinity every single time they see each other. So he’ll just send a text to him, too. Just to see if he’s busy.

He just doesn’t fucking want to be alone.

_E: Hey! What are you up to?_

_T: Hey :D_

_Just got out of class for the day_

_Hope you’re feeling better after everything yesterday_

_What are you up to?_

_E: Just hanging out on the green in front of the library_

_T: It’s so windy outside!_

_E: Ehh I’m tough_

_T: Don’t make me come over there_

_E: Welllllll since you brought it up_

_I was actually wondering if you wanted to hang out?_

_Do homework together maybe?_

_No pressure_

_T: Sure!_

_Meet at the café?_

_I’ll buy you a coffee to warm you up_

_E: I’ll buy my own coffee thank you very much_

_T: Bet_

_E: I stg I will slap you up if you spend money on me again_

_T: Uh huh_

_Headed there now_

_E: K see you in 5_

Eddie drags himself up off of the ground and pulls his bags back onto his shoulders before he begins slowly shuffling towards the café, and he grits his teeth as the cold seeps further into his skin.

He probably should have worn a jacket, honestly. It is fucking windy outside. But it’s not like he had the time to really consider that before he left.

By the time he gets there, he’s officially exhausted the last of his energy. He drags himself through the door and beelines for the bigger tables at the back of the coffee shop, and he’s relieved to see Troy already seated there with his schoolwork on the table, smiling at him with two coffees in his hands.

“I’m gonna fucking murder you,” Eddie says immediately, tossing his bags onto the ground in front of the table before throwing himself into the unoccupied seat across from Troy.

“Nice to see you, too,” Troy laughs, placing one of the cups on the table in front of where Eddie is seated.

“I told you not to buy my coffee!”

“And I believe that I said ‘bet.’”

“I’m gonna pay you back.”

“You can pay me back by helping me with my lit homework.”

Eddie lets out a deep sigh before he concedes and takes a sip of the coffee, and his entire body shivers in pleasure at the warmth of it. Maybe he’s colder than he thought.

“Does it taste okay? Triple espresso no foam, right?”

“Um, yes.”

“Sorry, I just realized it’s probably creepy that I have your coffee order memorized,” Troy laughs awkwardly, and Eddie can see him bouncing his leg under the table. “I just- I have a good memory? And also, I’ve seen you here, like, a hundred times before the one time I actually said anything to you. I mean, not that I was creeping on your anything all those other times. But I just remember how you take your coffee, because –“

“It’s cool,” Eddie interrupts, because he’s been in enough situations where he anxiously rambles his way deeper into embarrassment to know that Troy clearly needs an out. “I’ll just chalk it up to you being my stalker.”

Troy lets out another uncomfortable laugh, and he’s still bouncing his leg underneath the table.

Eddie occupies himself with dragging his homework out of his backpack, and as he’s flipping through his biology binder, he notices Troy staring at him.

“What? Are you looking at my hair? I know I need a haircut, I just – “

“No, no. Your hair is perfect. Just…” he trails off slightly, his eyes wandering down to Eddie’s neck where it isn’t covered by the collar of his hoodie. “Someone clearly wants to send the message that you’re taken, huh?”

Eddie goes scarlet and tugs his collar up higher, and honestly, he should have just worn a fucking scarf today or something. Idiot.

“Um… I guess,” Eddie replies, shifting his legs awkwardly underneath the table.

“So… so do you have a boyfriend, or…?”

“Um, yeah. As of this morning.”

“Is it that guy? The one you were meeting up with the other day?”

“Yes.”

“Well… well congratulations! I’m happy for you,” Troy tells him with a smile, and some of Eddie’s anxiety leaks out of him, despite Troy’s enthusiasm seeming a bit forced.

“Thanks! I’m- I’m really happy,” Eddie tells him truthfully, and Troy’s smile becomes a bit more genuine once Eddie is smiling, too.

“He’s a very lucky guy.”

They fall into comfortable conversation after that, working on their homework in between laughing and chatting. Eddie is ultimately very thankful that he decided to text Troy, because this is making him feel so much better. Being around a friend is making it so much easier not to break down about how he probably lost three other friends today. Because he’s a liar.

He’s just started helping Troy with his analysis of a short story in _Dubliners_ when his phone starts ringing, and he’s very surprised to find that it’s Richie calling him. Surprised, but certainly not disappointed, and he immediately presses his phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey, beautiful.”

“Are you- are you done already?” Eddie asks hopefully, but his hopes are crushed by the disappointed sigh that Richie lets out.

“I fucking wish. I would much, much rather be with you right now.”

Eddie smiles into the phone like a dumb ass, and he sees Troy glance at him before gluing his eyes back onto his laptop.

“I just called to see what you’re up to because I had a free second. And, honestly, because I wanted to hear your voice,” Richie tells him, and it sounds so genuine, and Eddie is still smiling like a fucking idiot.

“You’re such a fucking sap all of a sudden, what the fuck happened?”

“What can I say, you’ve made me change my ways. All I want to do is hold your hand.”

“Is that so?”

“Nah, I’m lying, I definitely still want to bend you over and fuck you so hard that your soul exits your corporeal form. But now I want to cuddle after, too.”

“What a romantic.”

“You created a fucking monster. Literally all I’ve been able to think about all day is how pretty you looked when you were licking my cum off your lips.”

“I’m doing homework at the café,” Eddie tries to say casually, but he’s blushing furiously.

“Ooh, is that code for ‘shut the fuck up Richie, I’m in public’?”

“Sure is.”

“In that case, I definitely won’t remind you of how you begged me to fuck you _again._ You’re lucky that my want to fuck your eyes crossed outweighs my poor show of willpower. I was so close to just saying ‘fuck it’ and shoving my cock inside of you. Just fucking you quick and dirty, like my own little cum dump. But, my desire to utterly debauch you the first time that I properly fuck you is just too strong,” Richie goes on, and Eddie’s skin feels hot under his clothes. He glances at Troy, who is still focusing on his laptop, and then shifts his legs to try and be subtle about adjusting his cock in his pants.

“You’re an asshole.”

Richie laughs lowly into the phone, and the sound of it makes Eddie’s chest break out in goosebumps. “I can tell you’re getting all flustered. You look so fucking cute when you’re blushing, and when you can’t stop fidgeting because you’re so turned on. I can practically picture it in my mind: how you must be sitting there all red in the face, holding your breath so you don’t do that breathless little panting thing you do when your cock starts getting hard; it’s a dead giveaway.”

Eddie is pissed because he has to let out the breath he’s holding to respond, which causes Richie to laugh into the phone again. “I fucking knew it. I know you too well, baby. Sucked your dick once and I already have you read like a book.”

“Remind me why I’m with you again?” Eddie grumbles, and Troy glances at him once more, which makes Eddie feel even more flustered and embarrassed than he already is.

“Because I’m charming and hilarious and you only pretend that you hate all of my jokes and my teasing.”

“And so humble, too.”

“You love it.”

“I tolerate it, for sure.”

Richie laughs again, and Eddie laughs with him this time, and he really just wants it to be fucking 10pm already.

“I should let you get back to your homework, it’s all gotta be finished if you want your reward later.”

“I’m already done, so eat me.”

“So are you heading home soon?”

“Nah, I’m helping Troy with his lit homework and then we might try to get ahead of our pre-calc assignment for next week.”

“Who the fuck is Troy?”

“My friend? From the café? The one I was doing homework with yesterday,” Eddie says gently, and Richie is quiet for a moment, and Troy is looking at him curiously over his laptop screen.

“Oh, okay. Gotcha. Well, I’ll see you later, okay? Be good.”

“When am I not?”

“I don’t know what you get up to when I’m not around.”

“You should probably worry more about what I get up to when you _are_ around,” Eddie jokes, but Richie doesn’t laugh.

“Well, don’t practice what I preach outside of church.”

“Yes, Father Richard.”

“See you later, kitten.”

“Bye.”

“I don’t get a ‘bye, Daddy’?”

“Nope, you sure don’t.”

“Whatever would your little friend think?”

“Probably not anything good.”

“Wouldn’t want him to know that I’m turning you into a little degenerate, just like me.”

“Goodbye, Richard.”

“Bye, baby.”

Eddie hangs up and rolls his eyes, and Troy is properly staring at him now.

“So that was the boyfriend, I’m guessing?” he asks casually, but Eddie is sensing some tension, and he’s honestly too tired to deal with it right now.

“Yeah, I’m staying over at his apartment later so he was just checking in.”

“Hm. Hope you have a good time.”

They go back to homework after that, and Eddie finishes helping him write his analysis on _A Little Cloud._ They dare to take out their pre-calc textbooks for about five minutes before deciding that they’re both too burnt out and that doing math is even less of a possibility than it normally is.

“It’s getting kind of late, anyway. The shop closes soon, so we should probably get going,” Troy suggests, and they both begin packing up their things. “I’ll walk you home. If you want.”

Eddie pauses, biting gently on his lip. “Um, I’m actually not gonna go home. I’m just gonna hang out at the library or something.”

“Why? Are you, like, fighting with Mike or something?”

Eddie sighs, but his brain is too tired to come up with a lie. “And Stan. We had a bit of an argument earlier, and I’m just… trying to avoid dealing with it right this minute.”

“Come to my place,” Troy offers immediately, and Eddie startles at the suggestion before considering it. “I mean, you can. If you want to. If you don’t want to go back to your dorm.”

“Uh…uh, yeah. Sure, why not,” Eddie shrugs, and Troy’s eyes light up. Troy came to his dorm, so what’s the difference?

“Cool, cool. Um, I live in Androscoggin, so… so it’s conveniently right next to your building,” Troy offers awkwardly, and Eddie laughs uncomfortably, because this entire situation suddenly feels weirder than it needs to be.

Maybe he shouldn’t go, if Troy really does like him like Stan said. But it’s not like they even know each other that well, it’s not like the man could be fucking in love with him after hanging out two times and barely coexisting in class. But he doesn’t know how to read this weirdness that he’s sensing, and it’s putting him a little bit on edge.

“We could go get dinner at the dining hall, too. If you want.”

“I actually think I’m gonna eat at my boyfriend’s place. But I’ll go with you if you want to get dinner, I don’t mind just hanging out with you while you eat.”

“No, no. It’s cool. No worries,” Troy tells him quickly, and then his eyes trail off behind Eddie’s shoulder, and once they settle on something behind him, the light in them dies.

Eddie cocks his head in confusion before turning to see what he’s looking at, and he beams when he sees Richie walking toward them.

Eddie stands from his chair as Richie reaches their table to hug him around the waist, smiling into his chest when Richie kisses the top of his head.

“Why are you here? I thought you said you were gonna be a while longer,” Eddie asks once he pulls away. He doesn’t get very far, though, because Richie wraps an arm around his shoulders and holds him there.

“I just conveniently happened to finish up early, figured I’d come get you here,” Richie shrugs, and Eddie is honestly so happy and so relieved that he wants to jump up and down like a little kid.

“Thank you so much for coming to get me. I could have walked if I knew you were gonna be back so much earlier.”

“It’s too cold outside, and I assumed you wouldn’t be wearing a jacket, which you aren’t, of course,” Richie scolds, and Eddie feels himself blushing.

“I didn’t think it would be so windy!”

“It’s mid-November, it’s always windy.”

“Whatever!”

“Brat,” Richie teases, ruffling Eddie’s hair before looking at Troy where he’s still seated at the table, staring at them with a blank look on his face.

“Don’t think we’ve properly met,” Richie begins, holding a hand out to Troy as he finally stands from his own chair.

“Troy,” he states curtly, shaking Richie’s hand once quickly before pulling his arm back down to his side. “Are you- you’re Richie, right? Tozier?”

“Depends, are you a cop or something?”

Eddie laughs, but neither of them laugh, so he promptly shuts his mouth so fast that his teeth clack together.

“No, no,” Troy insists, shaking his head stiffly before wiping his palms on his jeans. He’s acting really fucking weird, and Eddie can’t tell why. “I just- my friend- my roommate parties at OGR a lot. He’s pledging, actually. He’s mentioned you.”

“Good things, I hope.”

“More or less.”

Richie looks him up and down like he’s sizing him up, and Eddie is absolutely sure that he’s reading some sort of hostility between the two of them, and he has no idea why.

“What’s your friend’s name?”

“Josh.”

“There are, like, 4 different pledges named Josh,” Richie’s eyes narrow just enough to be noticeable. “Last name?”

“Um, Cashman.”

Something in Richie’s expression shifts immediately, and his shoulders relax. “Oh, Cash? Cash is your roommate? Chill, he’s definitely gonna get in, by the way. Don’t tell him. Or, actually, go ahead and fucking tell him, I don’t give a shit.”

“I’m sure he’ll be excited to hear that,” Troy smiles tightly, and Richie considers him carefully once more.

“Why don’t you ever come around the house?”

“Not my scene, really. I’ve heard – “ Troy pauses, his eyes flicking back and forth between Eddie and Richie a couple of times, and Eddie doesn’t understand why Troy seems so fucking on edge. And now he’s fucking scared, because he’s worried that Troy’s roommate knows what happened, and maybe he told him, or- or- but if he’s just a pledge, that means he doesn’t live in the house yet, right? So he wouldn’t have seen Eddie leaving that morning. He wouldn’t know.

“I’ve heard it’s a great time, though.”

“Yeah, they throw down pretty hard. If you ever want to come by and check it out, let me know. I can get you into a party whenever. Most of the real party girls are out on Thursday nights.”

“Not… not really my thing.”

“Or party boys, whatever you’re into,” Richie shrugs, and Troy nods uncomfortably, still flicking his glance down to Eddie every once in a while.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’ll bet.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence after that, and after a few agonizing moments of Richie and Troy staring each other down, Eddie decides he’s had enough of it.

“Well- well thank you for hanging out with me, and doing homework with me. I appreciate it so much. Sorry I couldn’t come over. Another time?”

“Yeah, Eddie, sure,” Troy smiles at him gently, and Eddie isn’t sure what’s changed, but there’s a tangible air of discomfort coming off of him, and Eddie just wants to leave.

So he picks up his bags off of the ground, but Richie immediately takes them from him. He wants to object or bitch about it, because he’s not a little kid and he doesn’t need Richie to carry his stuff for him, but Richie already has his backpack pulled on and his overnight bag slung over his shoulder.

“Ready?” Richie asks him, nodding his head toward the door.

“Yeah. Um, bye Troy! See you in pre-calc tomorrow?” Eddie asks cheerfully, and Troy nods enthusiastically, and then Richie folds Eddie’s hand into his own and starts pulling him towards the door.

“Nice to meet you.”

“You too, Richie.”

They walk out of the café and the wind whips into Eddie’s face so aggressively that he loses his breath for a moment, and he wraps his arms around his middle to try to keep the little body heat he has inside of his sweatshirt.

“You really should be wearing a jacket, baby,” Richie tells him firmly, and yeah, he probably should.

“It wasn’t this cold when I left earlier. I didn’t know it was supposed to be this cold tonight.”

Richie stops and drops Eddie’s bags on the ground, and Eddie is worried for a second that he’s sincerely upset about him not wearing a jacket, but then he takes his own jacket off and drops it onto Eddie’s shoulders.

“You- no, because now you’re gonna be cold,” Eddie argues, but Richie has already picked his bags back up and he’s walking toward the parking lot again, and Eddie huffs before he concedes and pulls his arms through the sleeves of Richie’s jacket.

“I’m fine.”

Eddie hesitates before following, running a little bit to catch up with Richie’s strides.

“Are you mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?” Richie asks, glancing down at Eddie when he finally catches up to his side.

“I don’t know. You just seem tense.”

“Not because of anything you did wrong,” Richie sighs, but that doesn’t really make Eddie feel any better.

“Well... well then why are you upset? You can tell me,” Eddie offers, and Richie glances back down at him before giving him a gentle smile.

“I know, baby,” he says, reaching an arm out to wrap around Eddie’s shoulders as they’re walking. “I’m just… I just need to get over myself. It’s no big deal.”

“What does that mean?” Eddie asks in confusion, because he doesn’t really understand what the fuck Richie even means by that. But when Richie throws another glare back at the café before they make it to the sidewalk, realization clicks into place. “Is it because you’re jealous?”

Richie sighs, and his arm tightens around Eddie’s shoulders. “I just- like, why him?”

Eddie wants to be mad and bitch at him, and say that he’s allowed to hang out with whoever he wants, but some shameful, base part of him is enjoying this. And that’s fucked up, but it’s also something to reflect on another time, when he’s more willing to unpack his fucked up intimacy issues. Which he isn’t right now.

“He’s nice to me, he’s my friend,” Eddie shrugs, and Richie sighs again.

“He obviously likes you.”

“I know, but I don’t think that’s a bad thing. He knows I have a boyfriend. Obviously,” Eddie blushes, gesturing vaguely at his neck.

“I just figured you’d be hanging out with Mike or Bill or something.”

Eddie sighs, and Richie looks at him curiously.

“Kinda… kinda fighting with all of them right now. I mean, not Bill specifically, but Mike and Stan, so it’s not like I can really hang around Bill without it being weird.”

“Did something else happen?”

Eddie hesitates. “Just the same shit, Mike and Stan refusing to back down and continuing to act like they’re my parents. I got really sick of it and freaked, so I left and told them I didn’t know when I was gonna be back. But I didn’t really want to be alone, and you were busy, so…” Eddie trails off with another shrug.

“You should have told me, Eds,” Richie says firmly, and his tone makes Eddie feel guilty. “I didn’t realize you were still fighting with your friends.”

“It’s not like it would have mattered, you were busy,” Eddie grumbles, and he’s really not trying to sound like a whiny bitch, but he’s pretty sure he’s failing.

“It does. It does matter. You’re much more important to me than whatever other stupid bullshit I have going on.”

Eddie’s breath catches in his throat and his heart flutters, and he tucks his face into the collar of his hoodie to hide his stupid smile.

“I don’t know what to do with this new soft boy shit you’ve been doing lately. I feel like I don’t know who you are anymore,” Eddie jokes, and Richie drops his arm down to grab Eddie’s hand tightly in his own, letting out a soft sigh.

“Neither do I, to be honest.”

Richie’s car is still warm when they get there, and as soon as Richie turns his key in the ignition, Eddie cranks the heat up and rubs his cold fingers in front of the vent closest to his seat.

“For someone who’s freezing all the time, you sure don’t dress for the weather,” Richie teases, and Eddie glares at him before buckling his seatbelt.

“Guess I must be a masochist.”

“Think so? Wanna test that theory?” Richie waggles his eyebrows and Eddie punches him on the shoulder, rolling his eyes to distract from the blush that’s creeping onto his cheeks.

“Just drive, asshole.”

“As you wish, master.”

Eddie busies himself with finding a radio station, but he keeps getting distracted by Richie’s fidgeting. He’s bouncing his leg and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel so hard that Eddie can hear it, and he still seems so on edge.

“Are you okay? Why are you so antsy?”

“Need a cigarette.”

“So… have a cigarette,” Eddie shrugs, and Richie glances at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Didn’t think you’d be cool with me smoking in the car with you.”

Eddie isn’t really cool with it, because he doesn’t want to smell like cigarette smoke (even though he kind of likes it when Richie does), but it’s Richie’s car, so he doesn’t think it’s his place to tell him what he can and can’t do. Besides, he should probably get used to it, considering how much Richie smokes.

“I don’t mind.”

Richie glances at him again and shrugs, gesturing toward the front pocket on his jacket that Eddie is still wearing. “Can you grab me one? Lighter is in there, too.”

Eddie reaches into his pocket and pulls out the half-empty pack, pulling out one of the cigarettes and a red lighter that’s tucked into the side. He hands them to Richie and watches as he lights it, taking a drag before cracking his window. “Thanks, baby doll,” he says, handing the lighter back to Eddie.

He doesn’t immediately put the pack back into Richie’s pocket, and kind of just stares at it in his hands for a moment. He starts to think about how his mother always acted like smoking cigarettes was one of the absolute worst things he could ever possibly do, and how often she told him she would paddle him red if she ever caught him doing it. _Cancer runs in our family, Eddie. Do you want to end up with an iron lung like your uncle?_

And it was always so fucking stupid to him, because he never had the desire to try it, anyway. He’s sure most of the reason why other kids at school never really liked him is because he would go off on tangents about germs and bacteria and various illnesses at every opportunity, and how sick they could get from doing literally anything. He knows he was an annoying little shit, running around with his fucking inhaler and his Purell stuffed into his fanny pack, lecturing all the other kids about how unsanitary they were for not washing their hands after blowing their noses. It’s an urge he still has to fight sometimes, but he thinks he’s been doing a lot better about it.

Once he hit high school, he started wondering why he never got invited to parties. But he knows why. And a big part of it has to do with the pack of cigarettes that he’s currently holding in his hands. Because nobody thought he could be cool. Nobody thought he could relax and have fun, and everyone probably thought that if he did get invited to a party, he’d spend the entire time lecturing everybody about alcohol poisoning and lung cancer and how smoking weed disrupts your natural brain development when you’re a teenager. They weren’t wrong, either. He probably would have done those things.

He stares down at the little cotton filters and drums his fingers against the side, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Can I have one?”

Richie laughs at first, but when Eddie doesn’t laugh too, he throws a surprised glance in his direction.

“Seriously?”

“Yes,” Eddie grits defensively, and Richie looks at him a moment longer, and Eddie wants to tell him to keep his fucking eyes on the road.

“I don’t know, Eds.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s a bad habit to get into,” Richie tells him, like he doesn’t already fucking know that.

“Well so is doing coke, and you still let me do that,” Eddie argues, and Richie lets out a sigh.

“Right, but doing coke is expensive, and there’s no way in hell that you’d know where to look if you wanted to get any on your own. Smoking is like… way too easy of a habit to fall into.”

Eddie feels his irritation bubbling over. “Weren’t you the one who said I should be able to make my own dumb decisions? I’m a fucking adult, it’s one cigarette. I’m not gonna need a fucking laryngectomy.”

“What the fuck is a laryngectomy?”

“Something you should be familiar with, since you’ll probably need one someday,” Eddie grumbles, then feels bad about it, because he’s not trying to be a neurotic fuck.

But Richie laughs, so it’s fine.

“Right, so, remind me again why you want to smoke, then?”

“Because… because I never have before, and I’m curious,” Eddie shrugs, and Richie rolls his eyes, flicking the butt of his finished cigarette out of the window.

“It’s exactly what you expect it to be like; mostly unpleasant.”

“If that’s the case, then why do you still smoke, asshole?”

“Because I’ve been addicted to nicotine for half of my life, and I don’t have the willpower to quit.”

“I’m not gonna get addicted after one time,” Eddie argues indignantly, and Richie looks away from the fucking road again to give Eddie a calculating look.

“Alright, go for it, hot stuff,” he eventually says, and Eddie makes sure that Richie is watching the road again before pulling another cigarette out and holding it to his lips.

He’s not sure what he’s doing, which is embarrassing, so he acts like he does. He holds the lighter up to the end of the cigarette once he has it firmly held between his lips, and he accidentally blows out instead of inhaling like a fucking dumb ass, causing the flame on the lighter to flare up suddenly. He nearly yelps before pulling it away, and he considers the bright orange tip burning on the end before bringing it back to his lips and taking a small inhale.

It sort of tastes bad, but it tastes like he expected it to, so he takes a second, deeper drag and inhales it into his lungs like he’s learned to when smoking weed. The burning sensation does not feel good, and sort of makes him want to cough.

But he manages not to and cracks his own window, flicking the ash off of the end before bringing the filter back to his lips and inhaling again.

Richie was right, it’s not very pleasant, and he doesn’t really get what people like about doing this. It just burns and tastes like shit. It’s not until his fifth drag that the nicotine high kicks in, and even that is unpleasant. It’s heady and nauseating, and it makes him feel more anxious than anything.

“So what’s the verdict?” Richie asks, and Eddie looks over to find Richie staring at him, and he loses his shit.

“Keep your fucking eyes on the road! Jesus fucking Christ! You’re so worried about me smoking a fucking cigarette, meanwhile you’re gonna get us both fucking killed,” he bitches, and Richie throws a hand up defensively, but ultimately turns back to the road in front of him.

“I- sorry. I didn’t think about it, I’m sorry,” he says quickly, and Eddie raises an eyebrow in confusion.

“Didn’t think about what?”

“Driving. Distracted driving, why that probably gives you anxiety,” he explains vaguely, but it’s more than enough, and the scar on Eddie’s elbow itches as if on cue.

Eddie doesn’t want to respond so he takes another drag, but honestly, it’s just starting to make him feel sick to his stomach.

“I don’t like this,” he states, and Richie laughs, but he keeps his eyes forward this time.

“Well, I guess that’s probably a good thing.”

“I don’t want the rest of this,” Eddie makes a face at his barely half-smoked cigarette, and Richie reaches out to take it from his fingers. He passes it over to him and watches as Richie takes a deep drag, and he feels weirdly enamored with him, watching him blow smoke out of his nostrils as he turns the steering wheel to pull the car into the parking lot of his building.

Richie doesn’t let him carry his bags upstairs, either, which Eddie fights him on.

“Bev is gonna think I’m a prissy bitch,” Eddie whines, and Richie snorts out a laugh as he opens the door to the lobby.

“Are you trying to tell me you’re not a prissy bitch?”

“Fuck you.”

“Do you want to? Because I’ve been thinking about it all day, and at this rate, we’re barely gonna make it through the front door before I pounce on you.”

“You’re a pervert.”

“Surprisingly I usually have better self-control than this.”

“Doubt it.”

“I do! It’s honestly your fault, with your fucking cute face and your ridiculous body and those fucking pants that make your ass look like a snack.”

“Got it, I’ll be sure to wear my habit next time,” Eddie tries to bitch, but he finds himself laughing.

“Ooh, does that mean I get to be the priest in this kinky Catholic role play scenario? Because I can get into that.”

“In that case, wouldn’t I be better off as an altar boy? Want me to get down on my knees and confess my sins, Father?” Eddie jokes in a breathy moan, and Richie barks out a laugh. “Oh, bless me, Father, for I have sinned; I’ve been a very bad boy, and I’ll do _anything_ for your absolution.”

“Jesus Christ, got something you need to get off your chest?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, stomping up the stairs towards Richie’s apartment. “Hardly. I was an altar boy at my church. Father Walton was a weirdo, but he never tried to reach under my vestments or anything. He did make us get on our knees for communion, though, and he always fucking touched my tongue with his fingers when I was receiving the sacrament. I’m not totally convinced that it was an accident. At the time I was much more concerned about his gross old man fingers being in my mouth than the potential kid-touchy implications of it, but none of the adults ever said anything about it, so we all just went with it,” Eddie shrugs, and Richie is shaking his head in disbelief when Eddie turns to look at him after reaching the landing for his floor.

“Catholicism sounds like… a real trip,” he laughs awkwardly, and Eddie worries that he might have genuinely made Richie uncomfortable. Which is surprising, since he didn’t think Richie really had a limit when it came to what is and isn’t okay to joke about.

“It was certainly something. Something I’d never like to experience again,” Eddie grumbles, leading the way down the hall to Richie’s apartment door.

“Gotcha. I’ll cross ‘sexy Catholic role play’ off the list,” he chuckles, before digging into his pocket for his keys.

He doesn’t have the chance to unlock the door, though, before it flies open and Beverly appears in the doorway, smiling so brightly at them that Eddie can’t help smiling back.

“Hey! You’re here early!” she exclaims excitedly, pulling Eddie inside by his sleeve. Eddie goes easily, looking back as Richie steps in after them and kicks the door shut with his boot.

“Nice to see you too, Beverly,” Richie calls after them as Bev brings Eddie into the living room, seating him next to her on the couch.

“I’ve seen you every day for nearly two decades, fuck face. It’s gotten old,” she calls back, and Richie flips her off as he walks past the couch to bring Eddie’s bags to his room.

Eddie’s heart rate picks up as soon as he’s seated on the couch next to Beverly, but he tries to calm down, because he doesn’t want her to think that she’s making him nervous. Even though she is, but it isn’t her fault. It’s just really, really weird seeing her after telling her _that._ And it’s even weirder knowing that she knows this thing about him that she doesn’t know she knows. You know?

“What kind of pizza do you like?” she asks, already pulling out her phone. Eddie hesitates, because he doesn’t normally eat pizza, so he’s honestly not sure.

“Uh… I’ll eat whatever,” he tells her, and she rolls her eyes.

“Richie’s paying, not me, if that makes you feel better.”

It doesn’t, but Eddie doesn’t say that. “I really- I really don’t know. Cheese? I guess?”

“ _Cheese?_ Jesus fucking Christ, Eds. Are you actually an 80 year old woman?” Richie chimes in once he returns, hopping over the back of the couch to lie his head in Beverly’s lap with his legs across Eddie’s.

“Well- Well I don’t really eat pizza! I don’t fucking know!”

“Right, I forgot, you only eat salads and chicken broth,” Richie grumbles, and Bev glances over at Eddie with what looks like concern hiding behind her green eyes.

Eddie starts getting sweaty and nervous, and he wants Bev to stop looking at him like that. “Pepperoni?”

“Better, but not quite,” Richie tells him, plucking Bev’s phone out of her hands before presumably dialing the number for the pizza place. “Hi, yeah, can I get a large barbecue chicken pizza with bacon and jalapenos? And a large pepperoni and sausage, and…” he pulls the phone away to ask if Ben is going to be there for dinner, and Beverly nods down at him where his head is resting in her lap. “And a small Margherita pizza on the whole-wheat thin crust,” he finishes before giving their address and hanging up the phone.

“So fattening,” Eddie sighs, and Richie lifts his head up to point at him.

“You stop, that sort of talk isn’t allowed in this house.”

“You got Ben a healthy pizza!”

“Ben is on a diet.”

“So am I!”

“You’re on a mission to fucking waste away to nothing, and I’m not gonna watch you do it,” Richie grumbles, before standing from the couch to go to the kitchen.

“He’s being overdramatic,” Eddie defends to Bev, once Richie is out of earshot.

“Well… well why are you on a diet?” Bev asks curiously, and Eddie knows that’s psych major code for ‘you don’t need to be on a diet.’ He takes the bait anyway.

“I’m trying to lose 12 pounds.”

“But… but why?”

“Because he’s crazy and thinks he’s fat,” Richie states, climbing over the back of the couch again, this time with 3 beers in his hands. He takes a lighter out of his pocket to open them and hands one to Bev, and offers the second one to Eddie, who takes it with a scowl on his face.

“What, Grumpy Gus?” Richie mock pouts at him, and Eddie rolls his eyes before taking a sip of his beer.

“I don’t think it’s unreasonable to want to be more in shape,” Eddie pouts, even though he tries not to, but he can’t quite keep the whine out of his tone.

“It’s not. It’s unreasonable that you think you’re fat.”

“Well… well I think that I could lose a few pounds.”

“You’re not fat, though.”

“Well neither is Ben!” Eddie huffs, taking another sip of his beer to cover up the pout he still can’t seem to wipe off of his face.

“Ben has lost a lot of weight, actually. He started I think in… our junior year of high school?” Bev turns to Richie for confirmation and he nods, pulling his legs up onto the couch to stretch them across Bev’s lap and rest his feet in Eddie’s.

“Yup, he just, like, turned into a health nut all of a sudden. Which is, like, good for him, but he doesn’t drink anymore, so that’s lame,” Richie shrugs, and Bev rolls her eyes.

“He was pretty overweight. He lost a ton of weight and he’s been maintaining for a while, but he hasn’t had time to go to the gym lately, so he put a few pounds back on. He’s just trying to get back to where he’s comfortable,” she explains, and Eddie is surprised to hear it, because Ben looks so fit now.

“So would you be more okay with it if I phrase it that way? That I’m just trying to get to where I’m comfortable?” Eddie asks sassily, and Richie dramatically shakes his head no.

“Nope, because I have a feeling that your definition of ‘comfortable’ is sub-ciento, which is no bueno, Eduardo.”

Eddie lets out a snort. “Like I’ll ever be that skinny again.”

“Hopefully not,” Richie sing-songs, pressing his socked toes into Eddie’s thigh. He keeps doing it until Eddie looks over at him, and he’s got a sort of concerned look on his face, so Eddie puts on a small smile to try to appease him. It doesn’t look like it works.

“If you want to be more fit, why not start going to the gym instead of dieting?” Bev suggests, and Richie enthusiastically nods in agreement, which makes Eddie roll his eyes again.

“Because I haven’t worked out in years and I’ll make a fool of myself. I have no idea how to use most gym equipment, anyway. I mostly just swam and ran and shit.”

“I’m sure Ben would be more than happy to have a gym buddy,” Bev suggests, and Richie loudly groans. “What? You don’t think so?”

“No, I’m sure he would, but now I’m picturing your hot boyfriend and my hot boyfriend at the gym together, and it’s hurting me deeply that I won’t ever get to see that because I refuse to step foot in a gym,” Richie sighs, and Bev slaps him on the thigh.

“The two of us could probably be in better shape too, Rich. The campus gym is free, just saying; we could all group up.”

“Nah, I’m fine with the cokehead skinny thing I’ve got going on. All the muscles I need for fucking are doing the job just fine, and that’s all I really give a shit about,” he shrugs, draining the rest of his beer in one long sip.

“Well, going to the gym is easier with friends,” Bev pushes, and Richie snorts.

“Right, so Eds and Haystack can morally support each other by being health conscious little weirdos together, and we can morally support each other by being lazy shits and eating whatever the fuck we want.”

“Maybe I want to go to support Ben.”

“Go for it. Nobody’s stopping you, fuck.”

Bev pinches Richie hard on the leg and he mutters ‘fucker’ under his breath, and Eddie can’t see the look that Bev is giving him, but he doesn’t miss the look of realization that flashes over Richie’s face in response.

“Right, yes. Totally. We could all group up! I’ll make you look less like an idiot in comparison, because I guarantee you I know even less about gym equipment than you do, Eds. Plus, it’s the perfect opportunity to see you in whatever cute little shorts I’m assuming you wear while you’re working out, so…”

Eddie rolls his eyes but he can’t help laughing, and Beverly drops her head against the back of the couch in exasperation between them.

“I swear, Eddie, I’m trying to be subtle, but… he’s just such a fucking idiot,” she sighs, and Richie scoffs indignantly.

“Whatever, I’m new to this!”

“New to what, exactly?”

“Being a boyfriend!”

“You’ve dated many, many people before Eddie.”

“Not any that I cared about,” Richie defends, and Eddie feels his cheeks go warm. “I really am trying, okay? I’m… I’m just a fucking idiot.”

“Well, if it counts for anything, I think you’re doing great so far,” Eddie says softly, and Richie clutches dramatically at his chest.

“Be still, my heart! I’m dying, Eddie. You’re killing me,” he cries, and Eddie rolls his eyes, but he can’t help letting out the cheerful giggles that bubble up from his chest.

“Eddie, you’re gonna make me cry if you don’t stop,” Richie warns, pointing an accusatory finger at him. It just makes Eddie laugh harder, and he lets out a little giggle-snort that makes Richie groan, throwing his hands up dramatically.

“Beverly, I suggest moving unless you want to be in the splash zone,” he announces, and Bev makes a disgusted sound before pushing Richie’s legs off of her lap to stand up from the couch.

“Don’t jizz on the couch,” she orders, and Richie throws a finger gun at her.

“Too late, already creamed my pants when Eds told me I’m a _great_ boyfriend. Did you hear that, Bevvie? I’m _great._ He said that. He said the word ‘great.’ You heard that, right?”

“I sure did, and I’m so glad that you’re not letting it go to your head,” Bev laughs, and Richie lunges forward to pull Eddie into a hug. There’s a knock on the door and Bev goes to answer it, just as Richie pulls Eddie down onto the couch until he’s lying underneath him.

“That could be the pizza guy!” Eddie argues, anxiously glancing at the door from his compromising position.

“It’s not,” Richie insists, kissing all across Eddie’s cheeks and his nose.

“How do you know?”

“Because it’s the slowest pizza place on earth. It’s definitely just Benny boy,” Richie assures before pressing their lips together. Eddie nearly objects but Richie keeps it chaste, so he calms down and allows Richie to kiss him until he hears two sets of footsteps walking back into the living room.

“Richie, we’ve talked about this, dude,” Ben’s voice sighs out in exasperation, and Richie pulls away to roll his eyes at him.

“What? I’m not doing anything!”

“No sex on the couch. I’ve seen your dick more than I would care to admit as it is.”

“We’re not fucking! We’re just kissing!”

“For now,” Ben grumbles, and Richie rolls his eyes again before leaning up, pulling Eddie up after him. Ben waves a hello to Eddie, which he awkwardly returns, knowing how red his lips must be and how disheveled his hair is.

“I wouldn’t fuck Eddie on the couch with you guys here.”

“Pretty sure I’ve heard that before, too.”

Richie just flips him off as he and Bev walk toward their room, and Eddie feels super, super uncomfortable. Not that he cares about Richie having sex with other people before him; he doesn’t. But being reminded of just how much more experienced Richie is with this type of thing right before Eddie is trying to muster up the courage to tell him he wants to have sex… not a vibe.

Which feels like a stupid thing to be worried about. But honestly, aside from his general anxiety regarding having sex after what happened, he’s also just nervous because he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. And Richie clearly does. So the chances of him being a giant disappointment seem fairly high.

But it’s fine, because Richie knows that. Eddie was honest with him about that, and he didn’t run the other way. That says something, right? Richie must be expecting it, to some degree, since Eddie told him he’s never had sex before. He’s only 18, anyway. Plenty of 18 year olds are virgins. So Richie must not mind.

Eddie is pulled out of his anxious thoughts by Richie tapping him on the shoulder, and he comes back to himself just in time to grab a bong from Richie’s hands. It takes him a moment to come back up to speed before he realizes that he has no idea how to smoke out of a bong, but he already grabbed it, and he doesn’t want to seem like a fucking idiot.

So he decides to just guess, but something about the way he’s holding it must give away that he’s clueless, because Richie looks over at him and laughs.

“Need some help, Tommy Chong?”

“Fuck off, sorry I’m not a pothead like you,” Eddie grumbles, and Richie laughs harder.

“’Pothead?’ Is it 1998?”

“You just made a fucking Cheech and Chong reference, so I really don’t want to hear it.”

“Yeah, but I did it ironically. You just genuinely called someone a pothead in what is almost the year 2020.”

Eddie flips him off and Richie laughs before he maneuvers around so that he can hold the bong while Eddie presses it to his lips.

All Eddie really does is breathe when Richie says to breathe, and he immediately starts coughing as soon as the smoke hits his lungs.

“Christ, fuck,” he gets out between gasping breaths, and Richie chuckles as he takes a hit himself.

“Sorry, guess I should have warned you it hits a little harder.”

“I’m dying,” Eddie manages to get out between coughs that he’s still trying to suppress.

Richie gets up from the couch and jogs to the kitchen, and Eddie is still coughing by the time he comes back with a beer in his hand. He cracks it open and hands it to Eddie, who gratefully drinks the cold liquid down in an effort to get his coughing under control.

He manages to take a deep breath without choking it out and sighs, and Richie pats him on the back.

“You’re a champ,” he praises, and Eddie glares up at him, but he can’t manage to keep his bitch face on when he sees how fondly Richie is looking down at him. That, and he already feels high, and it’s hitting him a lot more aggressively than it usually does.

“Is that why you like me? My willingness to do drugs with you, despite my cluelessness on the matter?”

“I like that you’re a neurotic little ball of anxiety, but you try so hard to pretend that you’re not for me,” Richie says very honestly, and Eddie blushes before grumbling, reaching for the bong again.

“Okay, okay, hold on,” Richie laughs, taking it out of Eddie’s hands. Eddie wants to object, but Richie is running back to the kitchen before he has the chance to. When he comes back, there’s ice packed into the neck of the bong, and Eddie cocks his head.

“Kay, here,” Richie says, but he doesn’t hand the bong over to Eddie. He climbs back onto the couch with him and gets as close to him as possible, practically sitting in his lap before pressing the mouth piece to his lips. Eddie holds it around the neck, and he can feel the cold from the ice seeping into his fingers as he waits for Richie to light the bowl.

“Pull,” Richie orders softly, and Eddie inhales, and the cold sensation from the ice spreads throughout his whole body as he breathes it into his lungs. It’s so much easier this way, though, and he manages to hold his breath without fighting off the urge to cough.

Richie takes another hit too, just as Eddie breathes out, and Eddie is sort of overwhelmed at the intensity with which Richie is staring at him. Well, not that Richie doesn’t always look sort of intense when he’s staring at him, but it feels more so right now than usual.

Richie exhales between them, but he’s so close that most of it blows right back up into Eddie’s face. He looks down to start poking around in the bowl, pushing ash to the side with the end of his lighter, and Eddie can’t stop staring at his hands.

God, his fucking hands, and his long fingers, and the way they move so gracefully compared to the rest of him. Eddie can’t stop thinking about Richie’s fingers pressing into his skin and touching him all over, and how badly he has to fight the urge to lick them sometimes, which he knows is strange, but he just wants to. He just wants so badly to suck Richie’s fingers into his mouth, even when he isn’t sure when he last washed his hands. Like right now, he wants to reach out and take Richie’s wrist in his own hands, and spend hours rubbing his tongue against the ridges and lines in the skin on his fingertips. Eddie realizes he’s never seen Richie draw, and he wants to. He wants Richie to paint across his skin with those fingers, and then he wants to take them into his mouth and keep them there until Richie’s skin is soggy with his spit.

Richie takes another hit, and Eddie’s eyes travel up with the smoke as he breathes it in, until he’s staring at Richie’s lips. And they’re such a pretty flushed pink compared to the pale color of his skin; they’re slightly chapped, but Eddie knows how soft they are. He’s still staring when Richie exhales again, and the flood of smoke that comes out of his mouth doesn’t hide his perfect teeth, his teeth that Eddie wants to feel pressing into his skin all over again. His teeth that Eddie wants to lick over until he can create a map of his mouth by feel, his teeth that Eddie is nearly obsessed with seeing behind those pretty pink lips every time Richie smiles for him.

And then they’re moving, and Eddie reads Richie’s lips more than he thinks he hears his voice.

“Do you want another hit?”

“Yeah.”

So Richie works the slide for him again, and Eddie grabs the neck with both hands this time before pulling the mouth piece to his lips.

And he’s very, very aware of Richie watching him while he does it; the way he’s staring at Eddie’s lips where they’re resting against the mouth piece before his eyes flick down to Eddie’s fingers gripping around the neck, and for some reason, it’s making Eddie nervous and feverish. He wants so badly to readjust his legs, but Richie is sitting so close to him that he can’t, so he settles for bouncing one of them instead.

But then that draws Richie’s attention to his legs, and after Richie takes another hit himself, he puts the bong on the floor and somehow manages to crowd even further into Eddie’s space. But it still must not be close enough, because he ends up straddling Eddie’s thighs, pressing Eddie further into the couch with his weight. And Eddie is taken off-guard by the movement, but he recovers quickly and wraps his arms around Richie’s waist.

He doesn’t realize that Richie is trying to kiss him until he’s got both hands cupping Eddie’s cheeks and brushing back into his hair, and Eddie goes easily after that, allowing Richie to press their moist lips together.

It’s a little awkward because Richie is nearly folding himself in half to fit onto Eddie’s lap, but Eddie is in heaven, and he uses the opportunity to run his hands all up and down Richie’s back, brushing his hands under his shirt to drag his fingers over the soft skin there.

His heart starts beating a little faster when he dares to bring his hands back to Richie’s ass, and he thinks Richie likes it, because he lets out a breath against Eddie’s lips before pulling back slightly from their kiss to nip at Eddie’s bottom lip.

Eddie starts letting out breathy little moans as soon as their mouths separate, and Richie chuckles, bringing his mouth to Eddie’s ear.

“Shh, kitten. I don’t want Bev and Ben to think I really am fucking you on the couch,” he laughs, and Eddie whines, trying to push his hips up into Richie’s, but Richie is too heavy.

“Can we just- just go to your room?”

“Have to eat first.”

Eddie groans loudly, dropping his head back onto the couch much more aggressively than he intends to. “Why?” he whines, and he wants to try to stop Richie from sliding out of his lap, but he knows there isn’t really a point.

“Because I’m starving, and I know you’re hungry too. Don’t lie.”

And, well, yeah. He is. He’s super fucking hungry, now that he thinks about it. Thinking takes a little while, though. He’s so fucking high.

“Yeah, okay. Fine.”

They go to the kitchen to gather plates and drinks, and as they’re carrying them back to the living room, the doorbell rings.

Bev comes barreling out of her room and beats either of them to the front door, whipping it open to take the pizza boxes out of the delivery girl’s hands.

“Uh… $33.36, please,” the pizza girl calls out in confusion when Bev immediately carries the boxes over to the coffee table. Richie jogs over to the front door to pay, and Eddie notices the way that the delivery girl lights up when she sees him, and proceeds to check him out the whole time they’re speaking.

He pulls a few bills out of his wallet and hands them over to her, and she counts them quickly before reaching for her change bag.

“Nah, it’s cool. Keep the change,” Richie tells her amicably, and she beams at him, bouncing on her heels as she looks up at him.

“That’s so generous of you.”

“Well, we order from you guys a lot, so. Figured you deserve it for putting up with us so often,” Richie tells her cheerfully, and she’s smiling so widely up at him that her face must hurt.

“Trust me, it’s my pleasure,” she assures, and she’s still not leaving, so Richie steps away from the door and goes to close it, and she finally steps back into the hallway.

“Well, uh, thanks again. See you,” Richie says dismissively, and Eddie feels like he should probably be bothered by her obvious flirting, but he finds her obliviousness to Richie’s rejection too funny to be mad about it. He’s too high to be mad about it.

“Bye, Richie,” she chimes sweetly, and Richie smiles at her once more before closing the door.

“She wants you to rearrange her guts, dude,” Bev announces from her seat on the floor with her mouth full, and Eddie snorts a laugh out of his nose from where he’s sitting on the couch.

“Yes, Beverly, please yell even louder while the delivery girl is still in the fucking hallway,” Richie bites when he makes his way back to the couch, and Bev gives an exaggerated shrug.

“Just saying, every time she delivers here she looks like she’s building up the nerve to drop to her knees and blow you on sight.”

“Which, I gotta say, I’m sort of surprised you haven’t encouraged,” Ben comments, seated in the armchair and munching on his own pizza.

“She’s not my type,” Richie grumbles, and Bev barks out a laugh.

“Since when do you have a ‘type’?” She asks in disbelief, cracking open another beer.

“Since always.”

“And a cute blonde with killer legs and gorgeous eyes isn’t your type?”

“Nope.”

“Then what is, pray tell. Please, enlighten me, because I was under the impression that I knew you pretty fucking well after all this time.”

Richie grabs a piece of pizza and takes a giant bite before plopping himself down onto the couch next to Eddie, dramatically gesturing toward him with his free hand.

Eddie rolls his eyes and smacks Richie on the shoulder before leaning forward to grab himself a piece of pizza, taking the paper plate that Bev hands over to him.

“Eddie is sort of a first, if I’m not mistaken,” Ben says gently, and Bev snorts.

“Yeah, Ben? In which ways? Do you mean the fact that he’s nice, and smart, and well-mannered? Or the fact that he doesn’t dress like a homeless person and have a coke nail?”

“Alright, Jesus! Richie has terrible taste in partners, har-dee-har, we all get it,” Richie bitches, taking a deep sip of his beer before shoving more pizza into his mouth.

“Just saying, Eddie is an outlier for being what you claim is your ‘type.’”

“He’s my unicorn,” Richie manages to get out through his full mouth, and Eddie laughs around his own bite of pizza.

“What the fuck does that mean?” he asks after swallowing, and Richie has the decency to swallow his bite of pizza as well before responding this time.

“It means that you’re literally perfect; my ideal person that I believed was unattainable or simply did not exist until I met you, and once you realize I’m a piece of shit and leave me, I’ll never find someone who compares to you ever again,” he explains, and Eddie’s smile falters a bit.

“Well- Well that’s fucking depressing.”

“Yeah,” Richie shrugs before shoving the rest of his pizza into his mouth, and Eddie is still trying to figure out if what Richie just said should be taken as a compliment.

“Well… don’t be a piece of shit, problem solved,” Eddie shrugs, and Richie doesn’t laugh. He smiles tightly and takes another sip of his beer before ruffling Eddie’s hair, but it feels stiffer than it usually does.

“Working on it, trust me,” he huffs, and Eddie wants to ask what he means by that, but it feels like this conversation has already gotten uncomfortable enough.

Beverly luckily saves them by putting music on, and that breaks the tension enough that they can finish eating their pizza comfortably. Eddie is amazed by how much fun he has with them, just being around them. Not that he doesn’t feel the same way about the trio, but it’s different with Ben and Bev and Richie. He doesn’t feel like they’re trying to parent him the whole time, and that’s freeing.

They spend most of the night just talking and laughing together, and Eddie feels so comfortable. So relaxed. It’s such a welcome feeling, and it makes him feel slightly better about what’s going on with Stan and Mike. It makes it easier to forget, at least.

Richie starts making fun of Bev for her taste in music, which prompts her to tackle him into the couch, and they proceed to wrestle playfully until Bev starts tickling Richie under his ribcage. He lets out a shriek and lands ass-first on the ground with a thud, and Beverly is cackling on the couch, raising her hands in the air in victory.

“Yes! Get fucked!”

“Fuck you, that’s cheating!”

“It’s not cheating to use an enemy’s weakness against them,” Bev defends, and whatever Richie is about to retort is forgotten as his phone starts ringing where it’s sitting on the coffee table.

Eddie is about to reach out and grab it for him when Richie lunges for it, snatching it off of the glass surface before Eddie has the chance to. Eddie looks at him skeptically, but Richie doesn’t even notice, because he’s too busy huffing and rolling his eyes at whoever is calling him.

He presses his phone to his ear and Eddie goes quiet, partly to be polite, but mostly because he wants to try to eavesdrop on his conversation.

“What the fuck do you want?” is the first thing he says, and it takes Eddie so off-guard that he feels his eyes go wide. But Beverly and Ben seem unfazed, continuing to giggle and make eyes at each other where they’re now seated on the couch together.

“Dude, fuck off, no. I’m busy.”

Eddie is watching Richie curiously, but Richie has his back to him, and Eddie really wishes he knew who was on the phone.

“Oh my fucking god, why can’t you just- like one time, one night. For fucks sake,” Richie grumbles before disappearing into his room, and Eddie watches him go with anxiety building in his chest.

He turns back to the couple, who still seems unbothered, but Eddie is going to explode if he doesn’t ask.

“What- Who is that?”

Beverly startles when Eddie addresses them, and he feels sort of bad for interrupting them, but not really.

“Uh… if I had to guess, probably one of the frat brothers,” Bev shrugs, and Eddie can’t swallow the lump that forms in his throat.

“So- So- Does that mean something is wrong? Or something? Why would they be calling him?” Eddie asks anxiously, and his nerves only grow worse when Ben and Beverly exchange glances that Eddie can’t decipher.

“That’s… something you should ask Richie,” Ben states slowly, and Eddie feels like he’s gonna vomit.

“Oh, okay. Yeah.”

Wow, he really feels like he’s going to fucking vomit. He gets up slowly to make his way to the bathroom, and the entire way there, he can feel Beverly’s curious eyes burning into his back.

He closes the door behind him, and he tries to calm himself down by splashing his face with water in the sink, but it all goes to waste once he looks in the mirror and sees how panicked he looks.

Yeah, okay. He’s going to vomit.

He barely makes it to the toilet before he’s retching, trying so hard not to look into the toilet at the chunks of meat and cheese and bread that come spewing out of him. He whines pathetically, resting his sweaty forehead against his arm as he waits to see if another wave of vomit is going to come.

It does, unfortunately, because he can never just throw up once. This time, though, Richie comes rushing into the bathroom, throwing himself onto the ground next to Eddie to rub his back just as another embarrassing wave of pizza vomit comes pouring out of him.

“Baby, why are you throwing up?” Richie asks frantically, and Eddie just whines miserably in response.

“Eddie… Eddie, why are you throwing up?” Richie asks more firmly this time, and Eddie spits a few times before trying to verbalize a response.

“Too much pizza. The beer. Think it made my stomach upset,” he manages to get out, but he can feel how tense Richie still is as he continues rubbing his back.

“You promise?”

The question takes Eddie off-guard and he lifts his head from his arm to look at Richie in confusion.

“What?”

“You promise that’s the truth?” he repeats, and Eddie doesn’t really understand what his problem is right now, and why he looks so freaked out.

“I- I- I guess? Yeah?”

“You guess?”

“Well what kind of fucking question is that?” Eddie snaps, and the hurt that briefly flashes in Richie’s eyes causes realization to slam through him.

“Oh my god- oh my god, no, Richie. Oh my god. No, I promise,” he insists urgently, but Richie still looks skeptical, and the worry won’t leave his eyes.

“I- I mean it. I wouldn’t- I’m not- I promise,” Eddie tries to explain, but he can’t get the words out.

“You know you can tell me the truth if you are, right?” Richie tells him gently, and Eddie feels so fucking bad. Fuck.

“I know, Richie. I know. But I’m not. I really, really promise. I mean it, okay? Please don’t worry. I just- just drank too much, ate too much greasy food. That’s it.”

Richie still doesn’t look totally convinced, but he reaches forward and pulls Eddie into a hug, kissing him on the top of his head.

“I’ll go get you some water,” he says softly, and Eddie wants to ask him not to, because he doesn’t want Richie to leave when he seems so upset. But he concedes to let him leave, and he flushes the toilet before dragging himself to sit on the edge of the bathtub.

When Richie comes back a few minutes later with a cup of water in his hand, he doesn’t look any less concerned, and Eddie can feel his heart shattering.

“Drink it slow,” he says softly, and Eddie nods before he starts taking small sips, and he really wants to brush his teeth, but he knows he should finish the water first.

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean to pressure you, or make you feel like you had to eat so much. I’m sorry,” Richie tells him gently, and Eddie is nearly alarmed by how small and disquieted he looks.

“You didn’t, I promise.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I feel much better. Thank you, Richie,” Eddie tells him earnestly, and Richie’s eyes light up, and Eddie’s heart clenches.

“You’re welcome. I mean, it’s no problem. All I did was get you water,” he dismisses, and a crushing sense of guilt overwhelms Eddie’s whole body, because he’s realizing that he’s a mess, and Richie is so often picking up the pieces, and Eddie has never really, properly thanked him for that.

“No, Richie. I mean- I mean thank you. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. You’re- you’re so kind. I just- I’m sorry I’m such a mess. I’m sorry I do this all the time. Thank you. I mean it, thank you for being there for me all the time,” Eddie rambles, and Richie walks over to him before kneeling on the ground in front of him, hugging Eddie around his middle. He tucks his head into Eddie’s chest, and Eddie brings his hands up to pet through Richie’s hair, and he sort of wants to fucking cry.

“You don’t have to thank me. I mean, I appreciate it. But I want to do everything for you. I mean it. I’ll always be there when you need me, okay? I promise,” he insists, and Eddie feels a physical ache in his chest, and it hurts so badly that he wants to scream.

“You’re the best,” Eddie manages to get out, but he doesn’t try to say anything else, because he knows that he’s going to cry if he does.

“Not really, but thanks anyway.”

They eventually peel away from each other so that Eddie can brush his teeth, and honestly, he just wants to go to bed. He’s so tired, and he made a fucking mess of himself again, because he just cannot seem to find his fucking chill.

When they come out of the bathroom, Beverly is standing in the hallway looking very concerned, and Eddie wants to cry all over again.

“Are you alright, Eddie?” she asks, wringing her hands together like a concerned grandmother. Which Eddie is sure Richie would normally make a joke about, but he’s pretty sure that the both of them think he’s bulimic now, so it doesn’t feel like the time for jokes.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just ate too much. I’m not used to drinking beer, either,” he explains, and Bev nods, but the furrow in her brow doesn’t smooth out.

Ben emerges from their bedroom with a prescription pill bottle in his hands, looking concerned himself, and Eddie wants to crawl into a hole.

“I still have some Zofran from when I was on antibiotics a little while ago. You can have some, if you want,” Ben offers gently, and Eddie wants to say no, because he doesn’t think he’s going to vomit again, but that would probably seem suspicious, so he nods.

“Yeah, that would great. Thank you, Ben.”

He takes the medicine and Richie makes the executive decision that they should go to bed, and Eddie doesn’t disagree. So they say their goodnights and head into his room, where Eddie flops down onto his bed in misery.

“Sorry I ruined another fucking night together. Wish I could promise that it won’t happen again, but this seems to be a pattern at this point.”

“You didn’t ruin it. You got sick, it happens,” Richie reassures, flopping down onto his bed as well. Eddie turns his head to look over at him, and Richie is smiling, but his eyes still look like they’re searching for answers that Eddie won’t give him, and it’s making him nervous.

“You don’t have to go to sleep just because I am,” Eddie says softly, and Richie laughs.

“What the fuck else am I gonna do? _Not_ cuddle you while you sleep? As if.”

Eddie bites his lip, because he wants to ask about the phone call, but now isn’t the time. Not after he just vomited and already caused a fucking scene. “I’m just saying, if you want to go to OGR like you were planning to do, it’s okay. I know it’s still early for you, so… so don’t feel bad if you want to go.”

“Not even a little bit,” Richie assures, and Eddie is going to insist, but he seems genuine.

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m more than sure,” Richie assures him, leaning over to press a kiss to Eddie’s lips.

Eddie decides to believe him, and he gets up from the bed to change into his pajamas. He’s had his phone on silent all day to avoid any contact from the trio, but he feels sort of bad when he looks at his lock screen and sees that Stan has called him twice, and Mike has called and texted him a handful of times. He has a few messages from Bill as well that he considers answering, though he ultimately decides not to.

God, he feels bad. But he doesn’t feel very bad, because he’s still mad, and he’s going to stay mad.

He also feels bad that Troy texted him and he ignored it this whole time, so he goes to unlock his phone as he’s unbuttoning his pants like a moron, and he drops it. Which might be fine, if his phone wasn’t already broken, or if Richie had carpet in his room instead of hardwood.

But neither of those things are true, so as soon as his phone falls to the ground, Eddie has to hold in the scream that he wants to let out.

“You okay?” Richie asks innocently, and Eddie feels bad about the death glare that he tosses his way.

“I definitely, definitely just broke my phone for good. And I honestly don’t even want to check, because I’m going to have a meltdown.”

Richie approaches hesitantly, side stepping around Eddie where he’s currently boiling before bending over to pick up his phone. As soon as he flips it over to the screen, Eddie lets out a sound somewhere between a groan and a cry, and throws himself back down onto Richie’s bed, electing to just let himself cry into Richie’s pillows. He thinks he’s earned it.

“Baby…”

“Don’t. Don’t. I know it’s broken for real this time.”

“Well maybe we could try to-“

“I appreciate you trying to make me feel better, Richie, but there’s no way we’re fixing that on our own. So I’m gonna fucking suck it up and spend the last of the fucking money I have saved up on a new phone, and you know what? That’s what I get for being a stupid fucking bitch without a car, and without a job, and for answering my mother’s fucking phone call and having the emotion regulation skills of a toddler. So that’s all fine, and I’m just gonna fucking go to sleep now and attempt to refrain from fucking throwing myself out of a god damn window,” Eddie rambles, and Richie stays silent the whole time.

He puts Eddie’s broken phone on his dresser and approaches the bed, and Eddie turns over, allowing Richie to see his gross, emotional ass on full display, because why fucking hide it at this point? All Richie fucking sees are his worst qualities anyway. For fucks sake.

“Do you have the money for that?”

“Nope! I sure don’t. I’ll probably just get one used on Craigslist or something,” Eddie grumbles, reaching down to finish taking his pants off where he’s lying on the bed. He kicks them off before tugging his sweatshirt off and the t shirt underneath it, and he decides to just go all the way with it and sleep in his underwear, since he feels he’s also earned that much.

He climbs under Richie’s covers and hides his face, and that’s when he officially allows himself to start crying.

He hears Richie rustling around, and a few minutes later, he feels the bed shift as Richie climbs onto it as well, sliding himself under the covers next to Eddie.

Eddie wants to pretend that he’s capable of self-soothing, but he isn’t, so as soon as Richie starts pulling Eddie into his bare chest, Eddie turns over to drape himself across Richie’s torso, lying on top of him like a mattress. Richie doesn’t seem to mind, though, and wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist, and Eddie drops his head into the crook of Richie’s neck and lets his tears drip down the side of his neck and onto his pillows

Richie is softly shushing him and rubbing up and down his back with his fingers, which feels nice, but mostly it feels nice that Richie is letting him cry. And he knows it’s unflattering and gross, and that he’s sweaty and he’s making Richie sweaty too where the skin of their bellies and their legs are touching, but Richie doesn’t say anything about it, so he must not care very much. If he does, he still lets Eddie break down on top of him, and Eddie really, really appreciates that.

Once he calms down enough, he lifts his head up, and Richie unwraps his arms from around Eddie’s waist so that he can properly lean up to press a kiss to his lips. When Eddie pulls away, Richie still looks worried, but Eddie just wants to fucking sleep.

“I’m sorry. For being a mess. This phone thing is just really bad timing, and… it’s just been such a long fucking day, and I don’t know. Sorry for being overdramatic,” Eddie tries to explain, but he’s just so tired, and upset that the one time he really had the confidence to have the ‘I wanna have sex but I’m scared’ conversation, everything fell to shit around him like usual. Guess he can always try again tomorrow, for fucks sake.

“You’re not being overdramatic, Eds. I get it. It’s no big deal,” Richie assures him, and Eddie wants to argue and tell Richie that he has too much fucking patience for all of Eddie’s bullshit, but Richie starts petting a hand through his hair again, and the temptation to lie back down on his chest becomes too strong to resist.

“You should get some sleep, baby.”

“Are you sleepy?”

“Sort of.”

“You don’t have to-“

“I want to, Eds. Get some rest.”

Eddie doesn’t argue again and tucks himself into Richie’s chest again, snuggling further into Richie’s blankets as well, and he realizes just how exhausted he is as soon as he closes his eyes.

“Is it okay if I turn the light off?”

Eddie nods, and he’s sure to press his eyes shut, which makes it easier not to flinch when the orange light behind his eyelids dies. He does hug Richie tighter around his middle, though, but Richie doesn’t seem to mind, because he squeezes back before he resumes gently running his fingertips up and down Eddie’s bare back.

“Night, Richie.”

“Goodnight, Eddie baby.”

Eddie drifts off quickly after that, but before he can fall into a real, deep sleep, deep enough to dream, he’s very gently roused again by… by something.

It’s a familiar sound, something very flat and monotonous and repetitive, and truthfully, that alone might not be enough to wake him up if Richie didn’t also sigh above him, which is the final pull back to consciousness that has Eddie slowly blinking his eyes open.

He’s about to ask what’s going on when he realizes that the sound is Richie’s phone vibrating, and he stops immediately. And yeah, okay, it’s probably not a cool thing to do, but he decides to just pretend that he’s still asleep. Just to see if Richie answers it. Just to see what he says.

What he doesn’t bet on is it being so quiet in the room, and him being so close to Richie’s ear that he can hear the person talking on the other side as well, and that makes it feel a bit like an invasion of privacy. But he doesn’t say anything.

He’s afraid that his heart rate picking up or how sweaty his palms are getting will give away the fact that he’s awake, but they don’t seem to.

“Dude, stop fucking calling me,” Richie whispers harshly, and Eddie still can’t help wondering who he knows that he speaks to so abrasively on contact.

“I’m coming by to grab a bag,” a voice replies, and because it’s so quiet and muffled through the earpiece on Richie’s phone, all Eddie can gather is that it’s a man.

“I’m kind of fucking busy right now, dude,” Richie whispers back harshly, and the guy barks out a laugh.

“Right, busy doing what? Getting your dick sucked? I mean, that’s why you bailed, right?”

“No, you fucking asshole. It’s fucking late and I’m trying to go to sleep.”

“Sooo… you do have a girl over.”

“Nope.”

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot Saint Richard’s got a _boyfriend_ now.”

“Sure do, and I’m going to sleep now, so good-fucking-bye.”

“I told you I’m coming by.”

“And I told you to wait, you cunt.”

“Yeah, well, you won’t come to the house, so it looks like I’ll have to come to you. Plus I did you a pretty big fucking favor today, so you’re lucky I’m going to pay you for it in the first place. Be there in 5.”

“Waste of time because I’m not letting you in.”

“I can just take a cut from-“

“No, no,” Richie says quickly, and Eddie doesn’t like the sound of it. “Just. Whatever, yeah, come by. Just grab my duffel bag from the garage and bring it with you.”

“I’m not your fucking errand boy.”

“Actually, you are, and if you need a bag that fucking badly in the middle of the fucking night, I suggest doing it.”

“Fuck you.”

Richie hangs up after that and sighs softly, but Eddie has been doing an Oscar-worthy job of pretending to be asleep, so Richie still tries to carefully slide out from underneath him, as if he’s trying not to wake him. But Eddie really wants to ask what the fuck this is all about, and what’s going on, so he pretends to be roused from sleep, gently pushing himself up on Richie’s chest to sit up in the bed.

“Richie?” he asks softly, and Richie sighs again, and Eddie sort of feels bad.

“Go back to sleep, baby. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“I thought I heard you talking,” Eddie gently pries, and Richie pauses, and Eddie has a suspicion that he’s considering whether or not to lie.

“Um, yeah. I’m sorry. A friend is gonna stop by for a second, it’s no big deal. You can go back to sleep. I’ll be, like, 20 minutes tops,” Richie explains, turning on the lamp before slipping out of the bed to pull on his glasses and a t shirt.

But… but no, because Eddie is still sort of confused by what he gleaned from their conversation, and he doesn’t want to go back to bed. He wants to know what the fuck is going on. But if he asks, he has to admit that he was eavesdropping on their conversation. And if he stays awake to see what happens, he runs the risk of seeing one of the frat brothers, maybe one of the ones who saw him that morning. Both are cripplingly terrifying.

“Well I- I have to go to the bathroom,” Eddie lies, because he figures he can scope the scene from there, right?

“Yeah! Yeah, go for it. You know where it is,” Richie laughs awkwardly, and Eddie feels super uncomfortable with Richie’s own obvious discomfort. He slides off of Richie’s bed and onto the floor, and he can feel Richie’s eyes burning into him the entire time.

Before he even has the chance to pull his pants back on, Richie is tossing something at him from his dresser. “Just- you know. Figured you might want something comfortable,” he shrugs, and Eddie looks down at Richie’s sweater in his hands. And normally he’d find it sweet, but right now he doesn’t know how to take this. He pulls the sweater over his head anyway, before digging his sleep shorts out of his overnight bag to tug those on, too.

Richie looks him carefully up and down once he’s dressed, and Eddie wants to ask what his deal is, but he’s afraid of what the answer might be, so he leaves to go into the bathroom.

He does manage to pee a little bit, but mostly he waits in there until he hears someone knock at the front door. And, honestly, it is not a polite knock for it being nearly two in the morning. It’s sharp and loud, and Eddie worries that it might wake up Beverly and Ben.

Okay, deep breaths. This might be the moment when he gets the answer to one of the questions that he’s been agonizing over this entire time. If one of the brothers that he recognizes walks through that door, there is no way in hell that Richie doesn’t know what happened to him. Especially if the brother recognizes him too, in which case Eddie will have to very quickly make a break for it. Which he’s prepared to do, if necessary, and then have a terribly awkward break up conversation that mostly consists of “sorry I didn’t tell you I got raped” with Richie at an undisclosed future date.

He washes his hands before opening the bathroom door, and he does so just in time to see Richie pulling the front door open. And Eddie wishes he had better prepared and taken a full breath in but hey, he’s ready to have an earth-shattering panic attack anyway, so might as well go all the way with it.

He does recognize the guy who walks through the door, but not as one of the guys he saw that morning. It’s the tall, skinny guy who was manning the door the night of the party. Eddie ducks behind the door before he’s seen, but he observes the way that Richie doesn’t bother greeting him at all, and they regard each other with what almost seems like disdain before walking toward the kitchen.

Well, okay. That’s good, that’s _relieving_ , to some extent. He’s not one of the brothers who saw Eddie leaving that morning, so the chances of him having told Richie are slim, because he probably doesn’t even know himself. Eddie doubts that he even remembers who he is. And that’s good.

Eddie relaxes by a hair, but it’s short lived, because he quickly escapes back to Richie’s room once they’re out of eyesight to try and eavesdrop on them from there, but just as he climbs back onto his bed, he hears their footsteps getting closer. So obviously he fucking panics, because he’s cornered himself, and he has run out of options to avoid this interaction. He should have just stayed asleep like Richie said to. He’s still considering if he should lie back down and ignore them when he hears their voices in the hallway.

“Why are you such a picky fucking bitch?” he hears Richie snap softly, and Eddie can’t help remembering how Richie referred to this guy as a ‘friend.’

“I’m not a retarded freshman that you’re gonna sell your shitty weed to, so fuck off.”

“Sure thing, princess.”

“Eat me, fuck stick.”

Eddie’s eyes are definitely wide and panicked when Richie walks through the door, and Richie’s eyes go wide in turn when he sees Eddie sitting on the bed, and he freezes.

“Um. Hey, thought you were in the bathroom,” he says awkwardly, and Eddie feels his words stick in his throat as he tries to respond.

“Just- Just had to pee,” he says softly, and Richie hesitates for a moment longer before walking into the room, allowing the other guy to follow him inside.

Eddie feels sort of like he wants to run away, because he doesn’t think he should be here right now. The other guy stands in Richie’s doorway for a moment and regards Eddie where he’s still sitting frozen on the bed, and his dark eyes are disconcertingly calculating in the same way Eddie remembers them being on Halloween. His eyes ultimately land on Eddie’s neck, which is on full display thanks to Richie’s giant fucking sweater, and the backs of Eddie’s knees instantly get sweaty.

He walks fully into the room and lets out a huff of a laugh, and Richie throws a glare at him over his shoulder before kneeling on the ground in front of his bed, reaching underneath his bedframe to drag out a big cardboard box.

Eddie wants to act like he’s not curious, but he is, and Richie throws a cautious glance up at him on the bed before opening it, and Eddie’s brain feels like it’s going 300 miles per hour.

There are a ton of jars in there, all with different labels on them that Eddie can’t quite read from where he’s sitting, but all of them are filled with weed. And he’s never seen that much weed before in real life, and he knows his eyes go even wider staring at them, and Richie seems like he’s purposefully avoiding Eddie’s gaze.

Richie picks up one of the 2 quart sized jars, which is nearly filled to the top, and hands it up to the other guy, who opens the lid and smells it.

Richie sighs and runs a hand through his hair, and he’s still not looking at Eddie.

“That’s the Blue.”

“What about the Diesel?”

“Still curing.”

The guy rolls his dark eyes behind his dark hair and sighs. “Fine.”

“Satisfied with your choice, your highness?” Richie bitches, standing up from the ground to rub his palms against his thighs.

“Guess so, peasant.”

“Do you have my bag?”

The guy reaches into his back pocket and takes out his keys, tossing them over to Richie, who catches them on reflex.

“It’s in my car.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you just bring it upstairs with you?” Richie snaps, and the guy sneers at him.

“Accidents happen, Richard. I’m terribly forgetful.”

Richie rolls his eyes and grabs a pair of sweatpants off of his floor before angrily tugging them onto his legs. Eddie feels panic starting to well up in his chest, because he does not want to be alone with this man that he doesn’t know, but Richie is definitely going to leave him in here. He doesn’t know how to ask him not to with the guy in the room, sitting on top of Richie’s dresser, clearly not intending on leaving either.

Richie tugs his hand through his hair again once he’s done, and he finally makes eye contact with Eddie, who is trying his best to beg Richie not to go with his eyes. Richie doesn’t seem to get that, though, because he sighs before backing toward the door.

“Be right back,” he assures Eddie, though Eddie does not feel reassured.

Richie glances at the other man and then back to Eddie, before ultimately settling a firm gaze back onto his ‘friend.’

“Don’t touch any of my stuff, Patrick.”

Patrick snorts. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Once Richie is gone, Eddie feels like he has ascended to a level of anxiety that he only dreamed possible. Patrick hasn’t acknowledged his presence since he first walked into the room, and now he’s just sitting on Richie’s dresser, picking at his nails. And Eddie is sort of grateful that he’s acting like Eddie isn’t in the room, but the horrible, panic driven part of him that feels so unsettled and uncomfortable with the silence in the room is unfortunately rearing its ugly head, and he feels himself speaking before he can swallow his words back down and stay quiet like he should.

“H-Hi. I’m… I’m Eddie.”

“I know.” Eddie’s breath catches in his throat, and Patrick throws a glance at him that Eddie can’t read before speaking again. “You’re all Tozier talks about.”

Eddie feels an aggressive blush flood over his cheeks, and he shifts his legs awkwardly on the bed. “Um, well… well we’ve actually met before! Do you remember me?” _Jesus fucking Christ, Eddie, shut the fuck up._

Patrick considers him carefully for a moment. “No.”

Eddie bites his lip, and Jesus Christ he wants to stop talking, but he can’t keep his fucking mouth shut. “That’s okay! There were, like, a million people at that party. I’m sure you let hundreds of people in before me. Halloween, I mean. I’m talking about the Halloween party. I was there. We met at the door. You were letting people in at the door when I got there,” Eddie rambles like a fucking idiot, and his hands have gotten so sweaty that he has to wipe them off on Richie’s comforter.

Patrick just looks at him with that blank stare on his face, and Eddie is sincerely considering making a break for it, because he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this socially uncomfortable before in his life.

“Right. You were a witch.”

“Yes! Yeah, that was me.”

There’s an uncomfortable pause then, and Eddie is thinking of something to fill it with, but Patrick speaks again before he can.

“You and uh… your _friends_ have a good time?” he asks, and Eddie remembers now that the whole issue at the door was that he didn’t have any girls with him, and his cheeks go pink in embarrassment.

“Yeah, it was- it was great!”

“I’m _so_ happy to hear it.”

Eddie hasn’t ever really had someone be… be _rude_ to him like this before. In this calculating, dismissive way. He doesn’t really know how to handle it, and his panic response tells him to keep talking, so he’s desperately trying to think of some other stupid thing to say for Patrick to dismiss when he hears the front door open, and he nearly cries out in relief.

He snaps his mouth shut and forces it to stay that way until Richie walks back into the room, this time with a huge duffel bag over his shoulder, and his nose slightly red from the cold.

He tosses Patrick’s car keys back to him almost aggressively, and then he carefully places the bag onto the ground. He unzips one of the pockets and pulls out a small kitchen scale and a sandwich baggy, and he waves Patrick off of his dresser so he can start measuring out the weed from the jar.

“How much do you want?”

“Give me a half.”

“A _half?”_ Richie scoffs, shaking his head. “No fucking way.”

“This isn’t a fucking negotiation.”

“It is, actually, because I’m not giving you half a fucking ounce of one of my best grows, that I fucking slaved over, by the way. So here you fucking go,” Richie finishes, zipping up the baggy before tossing it at Patrick, who catches it with a scowl on his face. “That’ll be $60.”

“Sorry, Saint Richard. Forgot being a drug dealer is the hardest fucking job in the world.”

“Well, you also showed up uninvited at two in the fucking morning, so give me my fucking money, and then kindly show yourself the fuck out of my apartment.”

Patrick is glaring daggers at Richie as he pulls a few bills out of his wallet and flicks them at his chest, which Richie catches in his fist.

“Thank you so kindly for your business,” he says sarcastically, and Patrick laughs bitterly, getting into Richie’s face.

“Any time, Dick. I’ll be sure to let the boys know you’ve been such a cunt lately because you’re shacking up with your girly boyfriend too, by the way. Sure they won’t be surprised.”

“Fucking go ahead.”

“Fag.”

“Get the fuck out of my apartment before I beat the shit out of you.”

“You’re too much of a fucking pussy to try.”

Eddie panics when he sees Richie tensing like he really is going to throw a punch and he lets out a yelp, scrambling off of Richie’s bed to rush toward them, like he’s gonna be able to fucking do anything about it if they start fighting each other.

“Please don’t,” he begs, and he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s thinking when he physically pushes them away from each other by their chests, but he’s just so fucking freaked out and he doesn’t know what the fuck else to do.

Patrick barks out a laugh, and it makes bile rise in Eddie’s throat, and then he’s leaning down to get into Eddie’s face, too. The light of amusement is shining in his dark eyes, and it makes Eddie feel so small, like he could crawl between the cracks in the floorboards and disappear.

“Do you want to die, faggot?”

Eddie is frozen in terror, and time feels like it’s moving in slow motion. He feels himself flinch away, and he tries to move toward Richie, or just move away in general, but he feels like all of his muscles are iron, and all he can do is stand there while Patrick stares down at him like Eddie is a mouse that he wants to stomp to death under his heel.

Time speeds up all at once when he sees Richie’s fist fly out in front of his face to connect with Patrick’s mouth, and he screams, and his body finally snaps into action enough to stumble backwards, but he trips over his feet and lands hard on his ass on the floor.

Patrick is cupping his face in his hands, and when he pulls them away, he’s smiling. Smiling with his blood smeared across his teeth, and Richie has this look in his eyes that Eddie doesn’t think he ever wants to see again, if he can help it.

“Wow, Tozier. Didn’t think you had it in you. The noble Saint Richard, valiantly defending the honor of his whore boyfriend. Must be some good pussy,” Patrick taunts, and Eddie can see that he’s tensing for a hit, and Eddie doesn’t know what to do to get them to stop, but Richie is already coming at him a second time with this terribly violent, feral look in his eyes.

“Richie _don’t!_ ”

Luckily Beverly and Ben come running into the room before Richie can lunge at him again, and Eddie scrambles out of the way as Ben grabs Richie around the arms and wrestles them behind his back.

“Ben, get the fuck off of me.”

“You need to calm down, Rich.”

“Fuck off!”

Beverly steps in front of where Eddie is still frozen in fear on the ground, staring up at Patrick with tears in his eyes. She puts her hands up defensively and covers Eddie from view with her body, but Eddie can still unfortunately see everything that’s happening, and he wishes he couldn’t.

“Get out,” she says firmly, and Patrick lets out another laugh, like this is the best fun he’s ever had.

“Are you gonna make me, sweetheart?” he asks, getting into her face too, and Eddie feels rage bubble up over the fear in his chest.

“If I have to.”

“Try me.”

“You don’t scare me, Patrick,” she says firmly, and the amused glint in his eyes only gets brighter.

“Not yet.”

Eddie is building up the courage to fucking explode at him for talking to Beverly like that, but she lets out her own laugh, which takes Eddie completely off-guard.

“Do you want to keep up the tough talk, or do you want to get out of here before Ben can’t hold Richie back anymore? Because I have a feeling you’ll change your tune when you have to face someone that you’re not so confident you can terrorize,” she tells him firmly, and he flips her off, but he does ultimately back away towards the door.

“I will fucking kill you, Patrick, I mean it. I’m going to fucking murder you,” Richie yells after him, and Patrick throws another sneer at him before walking out into the hallway.

“Looking forward to it.”

The worst part about it all after Patrick leaves is how much everyone is fussing over him instead of Richie. Richie is the one who cut his knuckles up on Patrick’s teeth. Richie got called a slur, too. But the entire time that Bev is cleaning and wrapping Richie’s knuckles on his bed, the both of them are talking over each other in circles, and Ben is watching Eddie curiously, like he knows that Eddie wants to cry.

“I swear to god, I swear to _god_ if he fucking glances in your direction ever again, I am going to fucking kill him, Eds. He’s dead, I’m going to fucking end his life.”

“Eddie, did you get hurt when you fell? You didn’t hit your head, right?”

“Eddie, what did he say to you when I wasn’t in the room? I shouldn’t have fucking left you alone with him, I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“Eddie you know this wasn’t your fault, right? Patrick is a piece of shit, you didn’t do anything, okay?”

“Eds, baby, he didn’t put his hands on you, right? Did he touch you?”

Eddie doesn’t even have time to answer their questions before they’re firing off new ones. Not that he wants to, anyway. He’s barely holding it together. Which must become apparent to Ben, because he decides that he’s had enough before Eddie does.

“Hey! Guys, Eddie is still shaken up. You’re just freaking him out,” Ben interrupts loudly, and the both of them snap their mouths shut.

Eddie takes a breath before he tries to say anything, because he doesn’t want to cry, but he feels like it might be impossible for him not to.

“I- I’m fine. He didn’t touch me or anything, I’m fine. I didn’t- didn’t realize he was so… such a piece of shit,” Eddie manages to get out, and he takes a breath before continuing. “Thank you guys. Sorry I tried to interfere, I just- I just panicked. I feel like I just made it all worse, and I’m so sorry, Richie,” he manages to get out without crying, though his voice breaks on the second syllable of Richie’s name.

“Baby, baby, hey, you didn’t- fucking fuck!” Richie cuts himself off with a yell, pulling his hand out of Beverly’s where she’s cleaning the wounds on his knuckles with rubbing alcohol.

“Stay still.”

“It fucking burns!”

“Yeah, well, we gotta disinfect your cuts. It’s fucking Patrick. Who knows what kind of shit he might be carrying,” Bev grumbles, resuming her cleaning once Richie steels himself enough to sit still.

He still flinches a little but he stops when Bev glares at him, and he takes a deep breath before trying to speak again. “Baby, you didn’t make it worse. He wanted me to hit him, he was just gonna keep saying shit until I did, regardless of you getting involved. That’s just how he is.”

“He’s a fucking sociopath,” Bev mutters, moving on to wrap Richie’s knuckles up with gauze and medical tape.

“I just- please, please don’t ever do that again, Eddie. Don’t get in the middle of things like that,” Richie begs, and Eddie huffs defensively.

“He was going to hit you!”

“I’d much rather have him hit me than you, baby doll.”

“So I was just supposed to let him hurt you?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“No, that’s not fair. You wouldn’t just sit there while someone was threatening me, either,” Eddie defends, and Richie sighs, and Eddie already doesn’t like whatever he’s about to say.

“It’s different.”

“Different how?”

“Because… because it is.”

Eddie clenches his fists at his sides, and he knows he doesn’t really have any justification to be angry, but he is. “Why? Because I can’t defend myself?”

Richie glances at Beverly for backup, but she pointedly avoids his gaze, focusing very carefully on wrapping up Richie’s knuckles. Eddie is fucking seething.

“So you think I’m weak? Wanna call me a faggot, too?”

Richie’s eyes widen before they settle into sadness, and he pulls his hand out of Beverly’s again as he moves towards Eddie, only to have Beverly yank it back into her lap.

“Baby, no. I don’t think you’re weak. I just… I mean, has anybody ever taught you how to defend yourself?”

That zaps a lot of the heat out of Eddie’s argument, and he deflates. “Well… well no.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“That’s not my fault!”

“I’m not saying it is!”

“Alright, listen,” Beverly interrupts, finally having finished bandaging Richie’s wounds. “Eddie, you’re not weak, okay? But it’s not really fair for you to be mad at Richie for wanting to protect you, since nobody has given you the opportunity to learn how to do it yourself. And Rich, I mean, come the fuck on. Did you honestly, _honestly_ expect him to just do nothing in that situation? That’s not fair either.”

The two of them just stare at each other for a moment, and Eddie feels all of his anger leave him in a rush. “Okay, yeah. You’re right, I’m sorry. I didn’t think about it, I just reacted on instinct because I was scared,” he admits softly, and Bev gives him an encouraging nod.

“No, it’s cool. I understand. I’m not mad or anything. Sorry if I made it seem like I think you can’t take care of yourself or something. I understand why you got involved. I’m sorry,” Richie shrugs, and Bev pats him on the knee.

“While we’re apologizing, sorry I didn’t let you haul off on him, dude. I mean, trust me, I wanted to. But I didn’t think it would be in your best interest to have an ambulance show up here in the middle of the night,” Ben shrugs, and Richie lets out a laugh, rubbing gently over his bandaged knuckles.

“It’s cool. You’re probably right. Honestly, having you manhandle me like that really got me going, Benny,” Richie throws a thick wink at him, and Ben rolls his eyes dramatically.

“Yeah, well, let’s try not to repeat the experience. I haven’t had to drag you off of someone since high school, it’d be cool if we could keep it that way.”

“No promises, but I’ll try my best for you, Benjamin.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Can we all go the fuck to sleep now?” Bev sighs, and Richie pulls his phone out to check the time, wincing when he does.

“Yikes.”

“Yeah, big yikes. You should probably get some sleep so you don’t bail on your 8am _again,_ ” Beverly says pointedly, and Richie rolls his eyes at her.

“Okay mom, I’ll get right on it.”

She climbs off of Richie’s bed and stops in front of Eddie, gently cupping his cheek in her warm palm. “You okay?”

Eddie nods, and she uses that same hand to brush some of his hair behind his ear. “Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks for coming when you did. And for getting him to leave.”

“He’s a big bitch. If he doesn’t think he can intimidate you, his bravado crumbles. That’s probably why he threatened you, honestly. Because you weren’t afraid to confront him.”

Well, that’s not true. Eddie was terrified. But his fear for Richie’s safety in that moment sort of overshadowed his concern for himself.

“Thanks, Bevvie.”

“I’d say ‘any time,’ but I don’t really want to repeat this experience.”

“Me either.”

Bev and Ben leave to go back to their own room, and Eddie still feels like there’s a weight in the air, and if he doesn’t address it now, he knows there’s no chance of him being able to sleep at all tonight.

“So… so you didn’t tell me you sell weed.”

Richie flinches slightly, and Eddie wants to climb back onto his bed with him, but this conversation can’t wait right now.

“Um… yeah. Sorry. I didn’t know how to bring it up organically, and… I don’t know. I…” Richie pauses, shaking his head a few times. “To be totally honest, I’ve been afraid that you were going to freak out at me about it and leave, so I’ve been avoiding telling you, and that was fucked up of me,” he sighs, lying back onto his pillows with his face in his hands. “I get it if you’re pissed and want to bail. I should have told you.”

Eddie pauses, biting the inside of his cheek. “Well… yeah, you should have.”

“Remember when I said shit in my life is complicated? This is some of the complicated shit.”

“I do remember that. I also remember us having a conversation about how to deal with our complicated lives together. Also remember having a conversation literally earlier today about trying to be more honest with each other.”

“Yeah, okay, yes. I’m sorry. It’s just been… I know you’ve been having a hard time, and unloading all of my bullshit onto you didn’t seem like the move, especially after today. I really was going to tell you eventually, I just… was sort of afraid of having this conversation with you. Because I was afraid you’d be mad at me.”

“I mean, I’m not happy,” Eddie clarifies, and Richie deflates. “Can’t you get in serious trouble for this? I mean, I know weed is legal, but it’s still not legal to _sell,_ is it?”

“Not… not technically, no.”

“I mean, what the fuck, Richard?”

“I’m super careful, I promise. Plus I never keep more on me than is legally allowed. Well, okay, that’s a lie, but this is technically a 3 person house, so that’s 7.5 ounces of cured weed as a household, and I never have more than that physically in the apartment ever. I promise. Besides, you have to have at least a pound on you for it to be considered possession with intent to distribute, so I’m, like, way in the clear. Promise.”

Eddie hesitates, because he knows nothing about cannabis laws in Maine, but Richie seems like he knows what he’s talking about.

“Why are you doing this in the first place?”

Richie bites his lip. “I need the money.”

“Don’t you have a job?”

“At a fucking radio station, part-time, yes.”

“Couldn’t you… couldn’t you, like, sell your art or something? Do commissions or whatever?”

“I tried for a while. Very, very time consuming and not at all lucrative. People aren’t willing to pay what they should for shit like that, if they’re willing to pay at all. The amount of times I’ve been guilted into straight up giving shit away for free is bad enough, let alone all of the haggling. Next thing I knew I was spending hours and hours of my life making shit for people who didn’t appreciate it, and not even making minimum wage, when it came down to it. Shockingly, doing what you love isn’t always enough to pay the bills.”

Well, fuck. That makes Eddie sad for a whole different reason.

“Are Bev and Ben okay with you doing this?”

“Totally. I mean, they both already agreed that if I get caught they’re collectively tossing me under the bus if they get implicated in anything, which I fully support. So they’re okay with it.”

Eddie sighs, looking up at the ceiling. “Richie, this is… this is a lot.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I promise not to involve you or anything, or… or… if it’s too much, I understand. I get it. You can- I understand,” Richie assures, but he looks panicky, and Eddie’s heart clenches.

“I’m not… to be clear, I don’t support this, okay? I think it’s fucking stupid, and you’re stupid for doing it,” Eddie begins, “but you’re a grown man. I’m not gonna tell you what to do.”

“I know, I mean, it’s not like I’m planning on doing this forever,” Richie states, then lets out a slow sigh. “Honestly, I could get in more trouble for having, like, 2 grams of coke on me. If that makes you feel any better.”

“It doesn’t, but it does put things into perspective, I guess.”

“So… you’re saying that all of this didn’t totally scare you off and you’re not gonna leave me?” Richie jokes, but it sounds oddly strained, and Eddie sighs before climbing onto his bed with him.

“No, I’m not leaving. I just… don’t support this. And I’m scared for you. And I think it would be a good idea if you stopped. But I’m not gonna… I’m not gonna tell you what to do,” Eddie manages to get out, though what he really wants to do is tear Richie a fucking new one and tell him to cut the shit before he gets into real, serious trouble with the police, instead of just aggro homophobic frat douchers.

Richie smiles gently up at Eddie from where he’s still lying against his pillows before reaching to pull Eddie down next to him, and Eddie goes easily, allowing himself to be wrapped up in Richie’s arms.

“I’m sorry that he called you a faggot.”

“I’m sorry he called you a fag, too.”

“He calls me a fag all the time.”

“What a piece of shit.”

“I think he’s just too fucking stupid to think of any other insults, honestly. It’s just a loop of ‘retard’ and ‘faggot’ over and over again because he doesn’t have the brain capacity to think of something clever. For example, if I were going to insult me, I’d say something like ‘hey pussy, bet you cry after sex,’ or something else equally as easy to glean from looking at me.”

Eddie snorts out a laugh, and Richie laughs lightly in turn. “Oh yeah? Is that so? I find that hard to believe.”

“Hey, I’m sensitive! I just hide it remarkably well!”

“Uh huh. So if I go around asking everyone you’ve ever slept with, they’ll report back that you’re just _so_ in touch with your emotions that you have a nice little cry after fucking?”

“Well no, I wait until they leave the room, obviously. Showing emotion is gay if other people see it.”

Eddie laughs again, and Richie cups the side of his face, using his thumb to lift Eddie’s mouth up to his own. They kiss for not nearly long enough, and Eddie is tempted to yank Richie’s lips back down to his own, but it’s late. They should get to sleep.

“You know, today started off, like, really great and is ending, like… really not great,” Richie states dumbly, and Eddie sighs.

“Could be worse.”

“Fair enough.”

“Time to go the fuck to sleep,” Richie announces, taking his glasses off to place them on his nightstand. He pulls his shirt off over his head, so Eddie does the same, and then they both end up in their underwear again, and Eddie is embarrassed by how excited he is to just have prolonged skin-to-skin contact with the other man.

Richie hugs Eddie to his chest before turning off the light, and as soon as they’re plunged into darkness, he wraps his limbs around Eddie’s body, nearly encompassing the smaller man. Eddie melts into it, and he’s got this pleasant, warm feeling in his chest and his head from feeling Richie’s skin against his own.

“I promise tomorrow will be better.”

“It fucking better be.”

“I still owe you that reward.”

“Oh yeah. Can I at least know what it is?”

“Nope.”

“That’s not fair!”

“How is it not fair?!”

“I waited all day!”

“And you can wait one more.”

“You’re such a fucking turd.”

“And you’re a brat.”

“I’m not a brat.”

“You are.”

“I just want to know what it is!”

“Alright, I’ll cut you a deal. You tell me whatever it was that you wanted to talk about tonight, and I’ll tell you what your reward is.”

Eddie pauses, but he knows there’s no way in hell he’s going to just casually bring up the sex talk that he’s terrified of having before they go to sleep, so he sighs in defeat.

“I’ll just wait.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Shut up.”

“Are you gonna stop trying to get the last word in so that we can go to sleep?” Richie teases, and Eddie huffs into his chest, tucking the blankets further under his chin. He settles into Richie’s side, already feeling the pull of sleep every time he blinks his eyes closed.

“Never.”

Richie snorts out a laugh before kissing the top of Eddie’s head, and Eddie’s heart floats behind his ribs, and yeah, okay, today was pretty bad. But this is so, so good.

“Goodnight, Eddie my love.”

“Goodnight.”

The next morning is a fucking whirlwind, and Eddie learns some very, _very_ important things about Richie. Like the fact that he doesn’t shower in the morning, or eat breakfast, or even make coffee, and because of that, he sets his alarm super fucking late. So, needless to say, Eddie has a fucking conniption, and Richie barely keeps up with it in his half-asleep state.

“Richie! There’s no fucking way I can walk to class in time!”

“I’ll just drive you,” he yawns, dragging himself over to his dresser to pull on clothes.

Eddie groans but follows suit, rummaging through his bag for one of his outfits. He pulls on a gray and white striped sweater and decides on his (thankfully unstained) overalls, which he carries in his arms as he runs to the bathroom. He pees as quickly as he can before pulling them on, and then he frantically brushes his teeth. He really wishes he could take a fucking shower, but there is literally no time, so he settles for washing his face and wetting his hair enough to comb it into something manageable. He really needs a fucking haircut.

Just as he’s trying to organize his curls into a presentable mess rather than a horrible one, Richie comes shuffling into the bathroom, and Eddie broils all over again as Richie goes to the toilet to pee.

“I’m going to actually kill you someday, you know that? What the actual fuck, who wakes up half an hour before class! Psychos! You’re a fucking psycho!”

“Not a morning person.”

“Neither am I! I still wake up in time to eat a fucking piece of toast before class!”

“Meh.”

Eddie huffs out of his nose in irritation before turning to Richie, who barely has his eyes open as he’s doing his pants back up.

“Kay, ready?”

“You’re not going to wash your _hands?_ Or brush your _teeth?”_ Eddie asks incredulously, and Richie rolls his eyes with a sigh before shuffling over to the sink.

“You’re the one acting like we’re in a fucking rush.”

“We _are_ in a rush! But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do basic fucking hygiene!”

Richie waves Eddie away as he leans over the sink, and Eddie rolls his eyes before stomping out of the bathroom and back into Richie’s room.

He gathers his backpack and pulls it onto his shoulders before searching for his phone, and then he remembers that it’s broken. Like, broken broken this time. He lets out a frustrated huff before stepping back out into the hall, just in time to see Richie exiting the bathroom.

“You brushed your teeth?”

“Yes.”

“That was nowhere near long enough to have brushed them right.”

“My apologies, Wentworth,” Richie rolls his eyes before walking toward the door to pull on his boots, and Eddie leans down next to him to tug his sneakers on.

“The fuck is Wentworth?”

“My dad.”

“Well… well fuck you.”

“Fuck you too,” Richie grins at him and ruffles his hair before he stands to pull his backpack on, and Eddie glares up at him while he finishes tying his laces. He reaches for the door when he stands, but Richie stops him.

“Put on a god damn jacket, Edward.”

“My apologies, Sonia,” Eddie mocks with an eye roll, and Richie cocks his head.

“Sonia?”

“My mom.”

“That one was hurtful,” Richie pouts, and Eddie sticks his tongue out at him before grabbing one of Richie’s jackets from the coat hook and leading the way out into the hall.

Miraculously, Eddie makes it to class on time, though that means Richie definitely won’t. He hops out of the car as quickly as he can before running off towards his lecture hall, and Richie yells after him. Eddie turns around against his better judgment, and Richie is pouting at him.

“I don’t get a goodbye kiss?”

“I’m gonna be late! And you’re gonna be super fucking late!”

“I’m not leaving until you give me a kiss, Edward.”

Eddie rolls his eyes before running back to the driver’s side of the car, leaning in through the open window to give Richie a peck on the lips.

“Happy now?”

“Very.”

“Go to fucking class.”

“I don’t think I need ‘fucking class.’ I’m pretty good at that already.”

“Oh my god, just go!”

“Wait! But you don’t have your phone, how am I gonna bother you all day?”

Eddie bites his lip, glancing between Richie’s car and his lecture hall. “I’ll come to your apartment when I get out of psych.”

“Deal. Deal, deal, deal.”

“Goodbye, Richard,” Eddie says one last time, running off toward the main entrance once again. He sighs in irritation when he hears Richie yell to him from the street, definitely causing a scene.

“Eddie, wait!”

“No!”

“Are you sleeping over?!”

“Sure!”

“Sick!”

Eddie glances behind him just in time to see Richie blow him a kiss before driving away, and he rolls his eyes, despite smiling like a fucking dumb ass as he runs down the hall to his literature class.

And truthfully, he spends the entire class thinking about Richie instead of paying attention to whatever the fuck they’re learning about. He’s honestly not even sure what they’re studying in class right now, which is definitely a bad thing, but he can’t bring himself to care all that much.

And yeah, okay, yesterday was a fucking exhausting roller coaster of emotions, but ultimately, these facts remain: Eddie has a boyfriend, and that boyfriend is fucking wonderful. And all of the other bullshit just feels like bullshit. Obviously they have some shit to work out the details of, but hey, they’re off to a pretty decent start.

It sucks so much that he can’t text Richie, but honestly, it might be a good thing. He needs to stop being so distracted from his schoolwork. It’s just so fucking hard not to be.

Eddie is so caught up in the euphoria of being Richie’s boyfriend that for the hour and forty-five minutes that he’s in lit class, he lives in a world where he didn’t essentially write off three friendships yesterday. So he is very, very taken by surprise when he walks out of his lecture hall to see Mike standing on the lawn, very clearly looking for him.

He freezes on the front steps of the building before trying to sneak around the back, but Mike calls his name, and he stops in his tracks. He turns around just as Mike is jogging over to him, and honestly, he sort of still wants to run away anyway.

“Eddie, can we please just talk for a minute?”

“Don’t know what we have to talk about.”

“Eddie, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to pry, or put you on the spot. I’m just- just worried about you.”

Eddie is so fucking sick of hearing that, holy fuck. There’s nothing to be fucking worried about. He’s fine, and he’s really fucking sick of saying it.

“Worried about what, exactly? If anything, I’ve been doing better lately than I have been for months. So what the fuck are you so worried about, Mike?”

Mike pauses, and he still has that fucking infuriating concerned expression on his face. “Have you been? I mean… I know Richie makes you happy, Eddie. And I’m happy for you. I mean that sincerely, and I hope you know that. But… but you’ve been acting weird. You’ve been evasive, and lying about weird things, and- “

“Maybe I wouldn’t feel the need to lie to you if you and Stan didn’t act like my fucking mom all the time.”

“Okay, that’s fair. I get that. I’m not trying to act like your parent, and I’m sorry that I have been.”

Eddie’s anger dials down to a simmer, and he bites his cheek before speaking again. “I’m sorry I’ve been… secretive. I just want to be able to make my own choices. And… you guys went too far. You did. It’s not any of your business who I’m sleeping with, or not, or anything. It’s not. And I confided in you about something that was really stressing me out, and you just… immediately turned around and told Stan about it. Like you realize how much that sucks, Mike? You’re… you’re one of my best friends. One of the only friends I have. Doesn’t really make me want to talk to you about stuff when I know you’re just gonna tell Stan whatever I tell you.”

“I won’t, Eddie. I won’t. I just… I told him about that because I was just so worried about you. I don’t think Richie is a bad guy, and… well, you’re not stupid, Eddie. I know you know that Stan doesn’t like him. But seeing how hurt you were by how Richie was acting… it was hard to see, and I just needed some advice on how to handle it. I’m sorry that I told Stan. I really, honestly am. I wish I hadn’t,” Mike admits, and Eddie is shocked. So shocked that he doesn’t really know what to say, and Mike goes on.

“And… and you haven’t been answering my calls or my texts, and I just- just got freaked out. I wasn’t trying to be overbearing by coming here, I just wanted to make sure that you’re okay.”

“I- I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you, that was childish,” Eddie admits softly, and he looks down at his shoes, because looking up into Mike’s earnest eyes is just too much. “But my phone is broken, too. I couldn’t really answer you if I tried.”

“Like it doesn’t work at all anymore?”

“I dropped it again and the LCD screen is kaput.”

“Okay… okay. Well, thank you for telling me,” Mike says, then hesitates before speaking again. “Are you, um, planning on coming home tonight, or…?”

Eddie sighs, and he still can’t look Mike in the eyes. “No. I’m staying with Richie,” he says, and he has to stop himself from apologizing. “And… honestly, I might stay with Richie for a while. I accept your apology and everything, but I feel smothered right now. And I just want some space from you guys,” he manages to say without crying, but Mike’s silence force his eyes up, and the look on Mike’s face has his eyes watering.

“I- I- Yeah, yeah, okay. Take all the space you need, Eddie.”

“Thank you,” Eddie whispers, because he can’t speak any louder around the lump in his throat.

“Just to be clear, is it okay if I tell Stan and Bill that I talked to you? And that you’re gonna be at Richie’s? They’re both worried about you, too,” Mike asks, and Eddie is already so appreciative of Mike respecting his wishes. As hard as it was to tell him how he feels, he’s glad he did it.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Let them know my phone is trashed, too. I don’t want them to think I just disappeared all of a sudden.”

“Yeah, definitely. Thank you, Eddie,” Mike tells him, and he sounds so relieved, and Eddie feels so guilty.

“I’m so, so sorry for how I spoke to you yesterday. I shouldn’t have- shouldn’t have said the things that I said. I was just so frustrated,” Eddie admits, and a tear sneaks out of the corner of his eye, and he quickly wipes it away with his sweater sleeve.

“I appreciate that. Thank you. I know you were just upset.”

Eddie manages to smile up at Mike, and he’s relieved to see Mike smiling gently back down at him.

“Will you just let me know how you’re doing? When you can? I mean, are you going to get your phone fixed?”

“I don’t know, honestly. I think it might be cheaper to just buy a new one. Or, a used new one. I haven’t figured it out yet,” Eddie sighs, and Mike nods in understanding, though his eyes still look so solemn.

“Well, let me know if you need any help.”

Eddie is pretty sure he means financial help, and he immediately shakes his head no.

“I’ll be fine, Mikey, thank you.”

Mike asks if Eddie wants to go get food with him, but he really, really doesn’t. So he makes up an excuse that he has homework to do, and he heads off to the library to waste time before his afternoon classes start.

He hesitates again before entering the library, and he’s still not sure why the building is putting him on edge, but he shakes it off and walks up the stairs.

He could do homework, but he really doesn’t have that much, and honestly he just really doesn’t fucking want to. He goes to the top floor of the building and finds a little nook to sit in by himself, and it’s nice. There’s nobody around, it’s just him, and it feels nice to be completely alone.

And it sort of isn’t, because now he’s just thinking about having this big, scary talk with Richie later, that he was supposed to have yesterday, which is making him even more anxious. And truthfully, one of the things he’s most conflicted about is whether or not to be _truthful_. A really, really big part of him wants to lie. Lying is safe, and comfortable. Lying allows him to keep this big, shameful secret that he has for a little while longer, though he has a feeling that it won’t last forever.

The smaller part of him that’s considering honesty is trying so hard to be convincing, but it’s hard to argue against all of the evidence that it would be a horrible idea. And something that Stan said keeps replaying over and over again in his head, and he wishes it would stop.

_Richie just wants something broken to fix._

Eddie doesn’t want Richie to think he’s broken. Not that he’s done a great job of providing any evidence that he isn’t broken, anyway. But if he tells Richie that he got raped, that he lied about having friends with him and lied about how fucked up he was and allowed himself to be taken advantage of that way, he’s terrified that Richie will pity him. He’s terrified that Richie really will think he’s broken.

And as much as he doesn’t want to think about it any more than he did on the phone with Beverly, he’s even more terrified that Richie will think he deserved it. He wouldn’t be able to handle it if Richie said the same thing that he’s sure most people would say if he told them.

_Well, what the fuck did you expect to happen to you?_

He flinches at his own imagination of Richie’s voice, and it makes him want to cry, and that feels so fucking pathetic. Because it is pathetic.

He just doesn’t know what the fuck to do. He doesn’t know anyone else who’s been assaulted like that, so it’s not like he can ask someone for advice. Not that he thinks he’d want to, anyway.

He pulls his laptop out of his backpack to try and force himself to do some homework, but he cannot focus on anything. He keeps circling back to the same anxieties. Do I tell the truth? Do I keep lying about it? Am I even going to be able to fucking do this in the first place?

It gets so bad that he finds himself typing the words in his head out into the paper he’s trying to write, and after the third time he finds himself slipping his insecurities out onto the screen, he decides he needs to fucking do something. Because this can’t be good for him, right? Obsessing over this so much can’t be good, and it’s not going to make it any easier to talk to Richie about it.

He hesitates before looking around him, tucking himself further against the wall. He takes a deep breath and opens up an incognito window in his browser, and he figures if he just gets some advice from the internet, it might make the whole experience a little easier when he potentially spills his guts to Richie later.

He isn’t sure exactly what to search for, but he figures starting with a simple question is a good enough place to start.

_How to tell somebody you’ve been sexually assaulted_

He anxiously looks around again before looking through the search results, and the third one down is an article titled “How to tell your partner that you were assaulted.” And, well, that seems pretty god damn relevant, so Eddie clicks it.

But honestly, most of it is stuff he already knows. Just be honest, don’t feel guilty because it’s not your fault, run the other way if they imply that you hold responsibility for what happened. All very much easier said than done. So he tries something else.

_How to have sex after being assaulted_

He clicks on the first result to find another article written by a psychotherapist, and the first line already has him on edge. “Many women find it difficult or impossible to experience intimacy in the same way after an assault, but it is possible to rebuild a healthy relationship with sex with the proper care.”

The proper care. Which means therapy. Which Eddie doesn’t want to do. So he clicks on another one.

“It’s important to know what your triggers are, and to communicate those triggers with your partner.” Well, Eddie doesn’t know what his triggers are. He thinks he might, but- but the whole _daddy_ thing yesterday sort of has him questioning everything. So that’s a wash. Next.

“Remember that your value as a woman hasn’t been damaged, and that you are not broken.”

Next.

“It is important to be communicative and honest, and remember that you’re re-learning how to feel comfortable with yourself as a sexual being. It’s okay to take your time.”

Once again, easier fucking said than done.

“Remember that many women don’t come forward about their experiences, and carrying the weight of your trauma on your own can make having a sex life all that much more difficult.”

Well, okay. That’s sort of useful advice. But something about it is still making him feel gross, and he sort of wants to just give up, until he finds a thread on Reddit in the search results titled “My boyfriend doesn’t know I got raped.” He takes a deep breath in before clicking it.

The person’s story is eerily similar to Eddie’s, and it makes him feel chilly under his skin. They’re in their late teens, got drunk at a party, woke up with someone on top of them. Their relationship is relatively new and they aren’t sure how to go about addressing the situation, since it’s still something that they feel affects their daily life, but they want to start becoming sexually active and don’t want this to ruin their chances. All things Eddie can relate to.

A lot of the comments are other people expressing concerns about similar situations, but one comment in particular catches his attention, and he finds himself reading it over and over and over again.

_Honestly, there isn’t a right answer to this. It’s shitty, but the truth is that you’re not going to know until you know. You might be totally fine one second and dissociating the next. It’s all part of the process. I would recommend telling him because it obviously makes it so much easier to handle with your partner if you can rationalize your potentially erratic feelings towards sex, but it’s not a requirement, especially if you don’t feel comfortable disclosing yet. As lame of a response as it seems, sometimes you really don’t know until you know, and you won’t know until you try. Just make sure you’re trying with someone who is an understanding person who really cares about you, even if they don’t understand exactly what’s going on and why._

And wow, holy shit, does that feel like great advice despite Eddie not having a fucking clue how to apply it to his own life. But Jesus Christ, does he objectively know it’s useful.

He forces himself to quit while he’s ahead and stop looking for advice after that, because he truthfully thinks he might have found the only advice he needs. Just try it. Try it and see what happens. And he sort of already did that, so he’s ahead of the game! And he knows that he isn’t repulsed by the idea of having sex, obviously, so that’s another amazing head start! And holy shit, he actually feels sort of okay about this right now. He doesn’t want to ruin that, so he forces himself to go back to his homework, and it’s truthfully much easier to focus.

Just try.

He nearly loses track of time before he realizes that he needs to head to pre-calc, but he hesitates, because he doesn’t really want to see Troy. Not that he did anything wrong, but the tension in the air the last time they saw each other left Eddie so uncomfortable, and he really doesn’t want to deal with that right now.

But fuck, he really can’t miss pre-calc. He sits there for a moment debating on what to do, and eventually he decides to go the real pussy route and just show up a few minutes late for class, then leave a few minutes early to avoid him altogether. Best of both worlds, right?

As much as walking into class late gives him anxiety, it works like a charm, and he dashes out of the building a few minutes before class is over, and he doesn’t see Troy once. Fool proof. It works so well, in fact, that he decides to use the same strategy with Stan in his psych class.

However, when he walks into class late, he can’t help looking around for Stan. Which is probably counter-intuitive to avoiding him in the first place, but whatever.

He is extremely unsettled to find that he can’t see Stan anywhere, and after scanning the lecture hall a good 4 times, he realizes that Stan simply is not in the room. And that leaves a sick feeling in his stomach, because Stan never skips class. Not once, not the entire time Eddie has known him.

He tries not to dwell on it, but it’s fucking hard not to. He knows Stan isn’t there, but he finds himself scanning the classroom for him multiple times throughout the entire lecture anyway. Where the fuck could he be?

He barely takes legible notes the entire time he’s there, and honestly, he might have been better off just not going. But whatever. By the time their professor dismisses them, Eddie is nearly rocking out of his chair with the desire to leave, and he’s the first student out of the building once class ends.

He immediately starts running across campus to Richie’s apartment, and by the time he’s standing outside of Richie’s door, he’s so out of breath that he’s wheezing a little. And that makes him laugh, because he hasn’t wheezed in so long, and he can almost taste the bitter, medical taste of his inhaler on his tongue.

He knocks before he even thinks about whether or not Richie will be home yet, but his question is answered moments later when Richie answers the door, completely naked.

Eddie shrieks and shields his fucking eyes like a fucking loser, and Richie snorts out a laugh.

“You’ve seen my dick before, don’t act so shocked.”

Eddie takes his hand away from his eyes and pushes Richie further inside, rushing to close the door behind them. He presses himself up against it as he tries desperately to keep his eyes on Richie’s face, but there’s an amused smirk pulled across it, and Eddie is absolutely sure that he’s the color of a fucking piquillo pepper.

“Why the fuck are you naked?!”

“I was about to take a shower.”

“So you answered the door _naked?!”_

Richie shrugs, and Eddie wants to smack him. “Didn’t think you’d be so scandalized over seeing me in the nude. My bad.”

“I’m not- I’m not _scandalized,_ I just- what if it wasn’t me?!”

“Who the fuck else would it be?”

“Either of your two fucking roommates?”

“They don’t get home until later.”

“One of your friends? Literally anybody else?!”

Richie just shrugs again. “Who gives a shit?”

Eddie scoffs, but before he can say anything else, Richie is walking back toward the bathroom again.

“Well- well what should I do while you’re in the shower?” Eddie asks, following after him.

“Whatever you want to.”

Eddie hesitates, biting at his lip before huffing out a breath. “Well… well wait.”

Richie turns around in the doorway to the bathroom and leans against the door frame, looking down at Eddie expectantly. Eddie has to really fucking force his eyes to stay glued onto Richie’s face.

“Can I- Can I hang out with you? Like… in the bathroom,” Eddie asks, and he feels so fucking stupid once he says it.

“Of course,” Richie shrugs before slipping into the bathroom, and Eddie hesitates for a moment before following him.

He walks over to the toilet and puts the lid down before carefully seating himself on top of it, which he doesn’t realize is a mistake until Richie steps in front of him to turn the shower on, and his direct line of eyesight is 100% filled with Richie’s dick.

He lets out a small yelp and fights back the urge to cover his eyes again, and Richie laughs from above him.

“Why are you acting like you’ve never seen a dick before?”

“Sorry I’m not exactly accustomed to this! Didn’t realize we were quite at the ‘walking around naked and peeing in front of each other’ point of domesticity!”

“You’re the one who asked to be in the bathroom while I’m showering, baby doll.”

Eddie glares up at him, but he knows it’s ineffective, and Richie looks so amused that Eddie wants to storm out in a huff just to prove a point. But he doesn’t.

“Are you gonna get in the shower, or just stand there with your dick in my face?”

“This is hardly having my dick in your face,” Richie laughs, and then he starts getting closer, and Eddie’s breath catches when he gets so close that his legs are touching Eddie’s knees where they’re still bent on the toilet. “ _This_ is my dick being in your face,” Richie clarifies, and Eddie finally just decides fuck it and looks down, because whatever, _whatever,_ he’s fucking allowed to.

It doesn’t get any easier to breathe when he’s staring straight at Richie’s cock, and okay, whatever. He’s seen lots of dicks before, obviously. But never, like, in person. And he obviously saw Richie’s dick when he jerked off into Eddie’s mouth (holy fucking _shit_ ), but something about this feels more intense, and Eddie doesn’t realize that he’s panting until he licks over his lips and feels his breaths ghosting over them, quick and short.

Richie chuckles above him and Eddie is pretty sure he can’t get any redder, but his body certainly tries, and his skin feels so hot that he’s getting sweaty underneath his sweater.

“I never thought someone staring at my dick could be so fucking adorable,” Richie comments, and Eddie wants to tell him to go fuck himself, but he can’t form words right now. He’s not expecting it when Richie reaches down to brush his fingers through Eddie’s hair, and the moan that he lets out is incredibly embarrassing.

But Richie lets out a low breath and shuffles closer, and he brings his thumb to Eddie’s lips, brushing over them gently like he did the night of the party. Eddie looks up at him and sees Richie staring back down at him with that same dark, hungry look in his eyes, and his heart rate accelerates so quickly that he gets lightheaded.

“Such a beautiful boy, baby,” he whispers, and Eddie doesn’t have the mind to be embarrassed by the moan he lets out.

Eddie is trying to build up the courage to say something in response, or make a move, or _something_ , but Richie speaks again before he gets the chance.

“I want to drag my fucking balls across your face.”

And Eddie knows its probably, _probably_ a joke, but the way his voice is so deep and rough when he says it has Eddie gasping. Yeah, that’s it. That’s the only reason. Fuck.

But Richie notices, obviously, and then he keeps talking, _obviously,_ and Eddie is going to die.

“Would you like that, baby? I know you liked it when I slapped you with my cock. I think you’re just a dirty little boy, and you want me to treat you like one,” Richie coos, and Eddie is suddenly very fucking angry that he’s wearing overalls, because all he can do is grab at his cock over the denim and let out another pathetic little moan.

Richie watches him do it and lets out another shaky breath, and his cock is getting hard before Eddie’s eyes, _literally,_ and Eddie wants to have the nerve to do something about it, but he has no fucking idea what he’s doing, so he just sits there helplessly.

“I know you want me to fuck that pretty little mouth of yours, baby. And you’ll be such a good boy for me, won’t you? You’ll let Daddy use that mouth however he wants; isn’t that right, kitten?” he goes on, and Eddie finds himself enthusiastically nodding when Richie starts stroking his cock in front of his face.

“I- I- Yes, yes, please. I want you to, I want it so bad, I just- just- I’ve never done that before,” Eddie admits, nervously wringing his hands as he stares at the tip of Richie’s cock moving in and out of his foreskin as he strokes himself.

“No? I’m surprised to hear that, kitten. Those pretty lips of yours are begging for a cock between them.”

Eddie lets out a whine in the back of his throat and squeezes his cock so hard that it hurts a little, but it’s fucking trapped inside of his overalls, and he feels like he’s going to die if he doesn’t touch himself.

Eddie nearly cries out in objection when Richie steps away from him, and then Richie is pulling him up onto his feet by his biceps, and he’s so lightheaded that he almost trips over his own feet.

“Your first time sucking cock shouldn’t be on a toilet, baby,” he laughs, and Eddie drops to his knees as if on instinct, and Richie curses under his breath.

“Not what I meant, but I love the enthusiasm,” he jokes, but it comes out shaky, and he strokes his cock a few more times before urging Eddie back up onto his feet.

Eddie whines in protest before allowing himself to be pulled onto his feet, and he knows that he’s pouting, but he doesn’t care. It’s weird, this feeling that he gets; where his head feels like it’s floating, and he feels this fuzzy warmth coating his brain whenever Richie talks to him like this. Not that he’s complaining. At all.

“Why?” Eddie manages to ask on another whine, and Richie is looking at him in something akin to bewilderment.

“Because the bathroom floor isn’t much better than the toilet. Also, I really need a shower, and once you’re not all high on the idea of getting choked on my cock, you’re gonna be mad that I shoved my two day ripe dick in your mouth,” Richie explains, and that breaks Eddie out of it a little bit, though the edges of his brain are still clinging onto it, urging him to stay in that place. Whatever that place in his brain is, that makes him feel swimmy and dizzy and fuzzy.

He’s definitely still mostly there.

“Can I- Can I shower with you, Daddy? Please?”

Richie nearly growls before he’s licking into Eddie’s mouth and frantically undoing the snaps on his shoulders, and Eddie kicks his shoes and socks off before urgently shoving his overalls down his legs. He’s barely stood back up when Richie lifts his sweater over his head and tosses it onto the ground on top of the crumpled pile of denim, and Eddie is surprised at the lack of hesitation he feels before he starts tugging his briefs down his legs, but he gets embarrassed once he’s standing there naked with his hard dick on full display, and he covers himself with his hands.

Richie grabs his wrists and pins them on the counter behind him, and Eddie’s chest is heaving as Richie looks him up and down hungrily, licking over his lips in a way that has Eddie shifting his thighs.

“I told you never to hide yourself from me, kitten.”

“I-I didn’t mean to Daddy; I’m sorry.”

“Get in the shower.”

Once Richie lets go of his wrists, Eddie scrambles for the shower curtain and nearly rips it back before climbing under the warm spray, and Richie follows immediately after, pressing Eddie’s chest against the wall. Eddie’s breath catches at the sensation and he tries to push off with his hands on instinct, but Richie has him pinned, and he can feel his nipples getting hard against the cool tile.

“Cold, cold,” he whimpers pathetically, but Richie only pushes him in harder, until his flushed cock is pressing against the tile as well.

“Stay.”

He lets out a yelp and tries to push off from the wall again, and Richie grabs both of Eddie’s wrists, pulling them behind him and pressing them into his lower back, holding them there with one of his own hands.

“You’re being bad, kitty. If you can’t be good with your hands, you don’t get to use them,” Richie scolds lowly in his ear, and that feeling is consuming Eddie again, where he feels sort of drunk and wobbly and his brain is fuzzy with pleasant static.

“I’m not being bad!”

Richie’s free hand flies down to spank Eddie on the ass and he cries out, his knees buckling slightly upon impact.

“Wanna try again, baby doll?”

“I’ll be good, Daddy,” Eddie promises in a gasp, but Richie tuts behind him, and Eddie’s whole body shivers at the sound of it.

“Too late, baby doll. If I let you get away with being a brat even once, I’ll spoil you.”

“I’m not- not a brat,” Eddie mutters softly, and he’s somehow still surprised when Richie spanks him harder the second time, and he’s incredibly embarrassed by how slutty the cry he lets out sounds in his own ears.

“You are a fucking brat. I should have just shoved my dirty cock down your throat. I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby? Because you’re a dirty, cock-hungry little whore who desperately needs a cock in his mouth. Dropped to your knees for me in a fucking bathroom because you’re so fucking desperate for my cock.”

“Richie,” Eddie sobs brokenly, and now he’s pressing his cock against the cold tile himself, because he just fucking needs some sort of stimulation. He nearly screams when Richie spanks him again twice in quick succession, and he already feels like crying.

“Who, kitten?”

“Daddy, Daddy!”

Richie still spanks him a handful more times on his other ass cheek, and Eddie is fucking embarrassed by how hard and sensitive his cock is where it’s pressed up against the tile wall, and how broken he sounds when he cries out with each strike.

“Daddy please, please,” he rambles incoherently, and Richie brings his hand around to gently press into Eddie’s lower belly, juxtaposing the near-bruising grip that he still has on his wrists.

“Please what, kitten?”

“Fuck, touch me, just touch me,” Eddie begs, and he lets up a startled yelp when Richie’s hand flies up to his head, gripping the hair at the back hard enough to hurt.

Richie tugs hard on his hair, arching his neck so far back that Eddie is nearly staring at the ceiling.

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do, you dumb slut,” he whispers harshly into Eddie’s ear, and Eddie is honestly pretty sure he’s going to come from this if Richie keeps going on. Which he does, of course. “This isn’t fucking about what you want. I’ll do whatever the fuck _I_ want to do to you, and you’ll get off on it anyway, because you want me to use you like a little toy. Don’t you, kitten?”

Eddie’s breaths are so ragged and labored that he can hear them rattling in his chest before they come puffing out of his mouth, and he wants to form something coherent to say, but he just keeps brokenly repeating “Yes, yes Daddy, please,” over and over again.

“Get on your fucking knees,” Richie orders, and Eddie should logically know that the growled demand means that Richie is going to let go of him, but he’s just so high off of this feeling. So that’s why he sort of forgets that he has to hold up his own weight once Richie is no longer pushing against him, and he really does try, but his legs are so weak and wobbly that he doesn’t quite manage to catch himself before he slips and goes flailing to the floor of the tub.

Richie tries to catch him, but he doesn’t quite manage either, and then Eddie’s legs take Richie out as well. He lands on top of Eddie with his full weight, and Eddie lets out a pained groan at the sensation of Richie’s elbow punching into his gut.

“Fuck, Eddie, baby, I’m sorry,” he apologizes urgently, pulling himself onto his knees and looking Eddie over with frantic concern in his eyes. “Are you okay? Did you hit your head?”

Eddie groans miserably before sitting up on his ass, and he immediately buries his face into his knees, because he’s already crying.

“Eddie, can you talk to me please? You’re freaking me out, are you hurt? Is your head okay?”

He sniffles pathetically before nodding a few times. “I’m not hurt, I didn’t hit my head,” he mumbles against his knees, turning his face away so that Richie can’t see how pathetic he is.

“You gotta speak up, baby. I can’t hear you,” Richie begs, and Eddie lifts his head to repeat himself, and the worry that won’t leave Richie’s face just makes Eddie feel worse.

“Eddie, baby, why are you crying?”

“Because I keep fucking doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Ruining everything.”

“You didn’t ruin anything, baby,” Richie assures, reaching out to brush underneath Eddie’s eye, though it’s more for comfort than functionality, considering his face is wet from the shower spray anyway. “Honestly, that was my fault. I didn’t realize you get so, like, muscle weak when you’re in subspace. So I guess kinky shower sex is firmly off the table for the time being.”

“I- I- What?” Eddie asks in confusion, still trying to regain his composure, but he just feels like such a fucking failure, and he feels heavy and empty in the middle of his chest.

“I don’t want you to crack your skull open. We can maybe try, like, vanilla shower sex, but-“

“No, no. I don’t- I don’t know what that means.”

“What what means?”

“Subspace? What is that?”

Richie gives him a curious look, furrowing his eyebrows at Eddie, as if he’s trying to gauge whether or not he’s being serious. Which he is, and he tells Richie so.

“It’s…” Richie pauses, still giving Eddie that look, like he doesn’t believe that Eddie really doesn’t know what he’s talking about. “It’s what makes you all… I don’t know, like all mushy inside of your head. I haven’t ever experienced it myself so I don’t know, but I’ve heard it explained like- like being drunk, kind of? Like you’re floating?”

Oh. So that feeling has a name, then. But now Eddie kinda just has more questions.

“Why does that happen?”

“I’m not, like, totally sure of the science behind it. I think it’s because the happy feel good chemicals in your brain are all firing off at the same time?”

“From- from… From having you be mean to me?” Eddie asks quietly, and Richie gets that furrow back in his brow, considering Eddie carefully.

“Come on, baby, stand up. We should finish up and get out of the shower, I’m sure it’s not helping you feel any less dizzy,” he says gently, standing to help Eddie back up onto his feet.

He still feels weak in his knees, but Richie properly supports his weight this time, and he allows himself the comfort of leaning up against Richie’s chest. He just feels so tired all of a sudden, like he ran a fucking marathon or something.

So that’s why he doesn’t feel too bad for allowing Richie to do most of the work for him, and he mostly just mewls and makes other terribly embarrassing little sounds of contentment as Richie washes his body for him. And it feels so nice, not in a sexual way. Just _nice,_ intimately nice to have Richie take care of him like this. He just feels so needy, and as embarrassing as that is, he leans into it hard. Because it just feels good. It feels good to be taken care of, and he doesn’t want to overthink it to death right now.

Once they’re both clean, Richie turns the shower off and opens the curtain to grab towels, and Eddie is shivering so badly that his teeth are clacking together. Richie drapes his own towel on top of his head before taking the other and rubbing it over Eddie’s head with both hands, and then he dries the rest of him before wrapping the towel around his shoulders. Eddie tucks himself into it gratefully as Richie towels himself off, still staring at Eddie the whole time, as if he’s looking for something.

“Thank you.”

“Any time, baby doll. Let’s go to my room.”

Richie gathers Eddie’s discarded clothes for him before leading the way back to his bedroom, and once they’re there, Eddie drops his towel and immediately climbs into his bed. Richie follows him to usher Eddie underneath the blankets, and Eddie is more than happy to comply, allowing Richie to tuck his comforter up under his chin.

“Do you want any clothes to wear, baby? You can borrow something of mine if you want.”

Eddie hesitates before shaking his head. “Not right now. Can you just come- come hold me? Please?”

“Of course.”

Richie climbs under the blankets with him and immediately pulls Eddie into his arms, and Eddie feels so flooded with contentment that he lets out a pleased little sigh. Richie rubs softly up and down his back with his fingertips, and Eddie sort of wants to go to sleep, but he’s having a hard time keeping his eyes closed for some reason.

“Are you feeling okay, baby?” Richie asks eventually, and Eddie nods against his chest.

“Can I hear you say it, please?”

It feels like a weird request, but Eddie complies anyway. “Yes, I’m okay. I promise I didn’t get hurt or anything.”

“What about everything else?”

Eddie hesitates, because he’s not entirely sure what Richie is asking.

“I mean… at this point you must be pretty used to me making an ass out of myself, so it’s all pretty par for the course, I think.”

“You didn’t make an ass out of yourself,” Richie assures, and Eddie rolls his eyes despite knowing that Richie can’t see him do it. “And that isn’t what I meant, anyway. I mean are you feeling okay about the way I was speaking to you and treating you? Were you okay with that?”

Eddie’s cheeks get hot and he tucks further into Richie’s chest, mumbling out a ‘yes’ against his skin.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I- I like it. A lot.”

“I can tell,” Richie chuckles, and Eddie pinches him on his belly.

“Agh! Don’t jab at me with your little gremlin fingers!”

“Don’t be mean.”

“We just established that you like it when I’m mean.”

“Shut up.”

“Eddie, for real. You know you can tell me if I take things too far, right? I mean, I just assumed you were somewhat experienced considering how easily you fell into it last time-“

Okay. Okay. It’s time. Time to have the sex talk, clearly. Because Richie is initiating it, and Eddie isn’t really going to find an easier out than that. Time to bite the bullet.

“I told you, I’m- I’m a virgin. I’m not experienced with any of this stuff,” Eddie says carefully, and Richie goes silent.

And Eddie is building up the courage to say it, to say “I’m scared, Richie. I’m really, really scared to have sex but I really want to, and I just hope you might be willing to be patient with me, because I like you a lot and I trust you and I want you to be my first.”

Unfortunately, as he’s trying to build up the courage to say it, Richie figures out what he wants to say first.

“Eddie,” he starts carefully, and Eddie already feels that panicky, prickly feeling spreading all over his scalp. “Remember what we said? About being honest with each other?”

Eddie feels sick to his stomach and absolutely cannot verbalize a response, so he nods instead.

“Don’t you think right now would be a good time to do that?” Richie asks, with all of the gentleness of a teacher trying to guide a grade schooler to the right answer, and Eddie is fucking mad. He’s so fucking mad, because he _just_ managed to convince himself that it’s okay not to tell Richie if he doesn’t want to, and of course Richie knows anyway. He’s probably known this whole time, and he’s just been waiting for Eddie to tell the truth like a grown adult, and now his patience is running out.

And yet, Eddie’s knee-jerk reaction is still to play stupid, because he is fucking stupid.

“What- What do you mean?”

Richie sighs, and it just makes Eddie’s panicked brain scream incoherently even louder inside of his head.

“Eddie, I know you aren’t a virgin.”

There it is! There it fucking is! Eddie can’t fucking pretend that Richie doesn’t know anymore, can’t lie to himself and pretend that he can keep this fucking secret anymore. No more hiding, time to get dragged into the fucking light.

“You do?”

“Of course I do, Eddie. Do you think I’m, like… stupid? I mean, I figured at first you just panicked and said you were a virgin because you were embarrassed about coming so fast, but then you kept going with it, and I just… I don’t get why. You must have known that I know, so why even bother lying about it?”

Eddie’s tongue feels so sticky in his mouth that he nearly has to peel it from the roof of his mouth to speak again. “I was- I was scared of what you would think,” he admits honestly, and he’s somehow managing not to cry, but he mostly thinks it’s because he’s half convinced that this is just another of countless stress dreams he’s had about having this conversation with Richie. He’s basically fully prepared.

Except he’s not.

“I mean, I’m definitely not happy about it. But honestly, it hurts more that you lied to me like that. That was fucked up, Eddie. It’s not like I’d really have a right to be _jealous;_ I mean, we weren’t exclusive at the time or anything. And I thought maybe at first that was why you didn’t tell me, because I’m a jealous person, but I honestly think you lying about it just made it worse. Especially because I was trying so fucking hard to be good at the party, you know. I was trying so hard not to fuck you too soon and fuck all of this up. And it sort of feels like I got cheated.”

Eddie’s head is spinning so fucking fast that he feels nauseous again, and he wants to fucking sit down, even though he’s already lying down.

“Are you- are you fucking serious, Richie? How could you say that to me?” he spits out, and even he is surprised by how angry he sounds. He sits up and looks down at Richie, feeling something like rage boiling up inside of him, because Richie is being serious, and how could he fucking say something so disgusting? Richie says and does things that Eddie doesn’t agree with sometimes, but this is… this is a different level of not okay, and Richie definitely isn’t joking, and Eddie can’t dismiss this by convincing himself that he is.

Richie looks pissed too, and Eddie wants to fucking hit him. He wants to punch him in his fucking face.

Richie sits up on the bed as well, looking at Eddie in disbelief. “Is that a real fucking question, Eddie? I told you pretty fucking early on that I am super into you. And let me tell you, the cherry on top of spending all night taking you down from a fucking overdose definitely _wasn’t_ seeing the fucking evidence on your body that you let some guy rail you hard enough to give you bruises like that. Have you been fucking that guy? Troy? Tell me the truth, Eddie.”

The whiplash that Eddie experiences is so sudden and so intense that he nearly can’t keep himself from gagging, and there’s practically steam coming out of his ears as his brain kicks into overdrive to figure out what the fuck he’s supposed to say.

“I didn’t- I didn’t fuck Troy!”

“Then who did fuck you, Eddie?”

And now what? Now what, now what, now what? Is he going to tell the fucking truth? Is he going to fucking tell Richie that he didn’t fuck some random guy, he got _raped_ by some random guy? It’s only a small correction.

No, no. He can’t fucking do that. It’s better that Richie thinks he just had sex with somebody else, right? Because at least then Eddie can fucking save some face. At least he can pretend that he lost his virginity of his own volition, not paralyzed and terrified to a stranger who left his body feeling like it’s not his own anymore.

No fucking wonder Richie was weird all week. No fucking wonder he was acting distant and shitty and guarded. No fucking wonder. Everything makes disgusting sense in a way that Eddie desperately wishes it didn’t, but it fucking does, and that crushes him further.

Richie is going to think he’s a slut, but at least he won’t think he’s a damaged slut, and that’s the better option, here. Because Eddie can’t stand the possibility of hearing Richie say something hurtful or callous if he did tell the truth, not after how fucking badly it just hurt when Eddie only thought he was. And that’s enough to scare him into lying again. That’s enough.

Half-truths. Partial truths. Semi-truths.

“I- I- I don’t remember his name, or anything discernible about him, really. I just… you disappeared at the party, and I… I met this guy, and I don’t know. Everything just happened really fast. And I…”

Truth-adjacent.

“I just had stupid, drunk sex with some random guy at the party, and I didn’t want to tell you because I was so afraid of what you would think. I was afraid you wouldn’t want to talk to me anymore, and- and- and I’m sorry that I lied to you. I’m so sorry,” Eddie pauses to let out a sob, which is funny, because he hadn’t even realized that he’s been crying.

“But I promise, it really was my first time, and the only time. That was the only time I ever had sex, and I’m just… ashamed of the circumstances, and I don’t even really remember it, and it wasn’t any good. So I just wanted to pretend that it didn’t happen, because I- I wanted you to be my first,” Eddie is nearly whispering by the time he finishes, and he hurts so badly in his chest and his lungs that it burns, and he hugs himself around the middle to try and ease the ache.

He realizes that he has his eyes closed when he feels Richie pull him into a hug, which makes him cry more, and honestly, it feels sort of nice. It feels sort of like he told the truth a little bit, even though he didn’t, but he can pretend he did. He can pretend that Richie is hugging him so tight and pressing kisses into his hair because he was brave and told the truth and Richie still likes him anyway.

“Baby, listen. I’m not mad, okay? I’m sorry I yelled. Everybody does stupid shit when they’re drunk, and it’s not something to be ashamed of. I’m sure there is more than one person out there who’s probably lost their virginity to _me_ when we were both blackout drunk at a party,” Richie tries to joke, but it doesn’t help Eddie not to feel queasy anymore. “I don’t want you to be ashamed of yourself.”

“I just wish I could take it back,” Eddie tries to say, but it sounds more like a series of croaks and whines than anything.

“Baby,” Richie says in a pitying tone, “I promise it’s not as big of a deal as you think it is.”

“Feels like one.”

“Well, it’s not. And I’ll make our first time so good for you that it’ll be like it never happened, and you can tell everyone for the rest of your life that you lost your virginity to me,” Richie assures firmly, and Eddie is still afraid to meet his gaze as Richie reaches a hand down to his neck, gently running the backs of his fingers over the bruises there. Eddie can feel the healing scars on Richie's knuckles against his skin before he wraps his hand around Eddie’s neck, using his thumb to lift Eddie’s chin.

“That’s- That’s all I wanted, Richie. I’m so sorry,” Eddie cries once their eyes finally meet, and Richie’s gaze is so intense that Eddie tries to shy away from it, but Richie is still holding his head in place with his hand against his throat.

“I forgive you, Eddie. And I’ll give you the first time that you wanted, baby doll. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BREH I GOT MCR TICKETS and honestly they sold out at my venue in less than an hour, so I take that as an absolute win. Me and my best friend are gonna get to live out our emo dreams and I honestly cried about it so thats that on that
> 
> I'm really sorry again for the delay, guys. I'm going to try my best not to go this long without updating again. I've already started writing parts for next chap and I really do appreciate your patience and understanding.
> 
> If I could get paid to write angsty gay fanfic in the comfort of my own god damn home every day everything in my life would be so much easier.


	6. If you left your love, I'll be right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'll be your baby doll  
> And your bodyguard  
> If you tell me to  
> I'll try to make it all  
> Not as hard  
> If you let me through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ 'Eager to be Held' playlist for your disaster angst reading needs](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2u8K6ocYs6En71YbXDFMZ9?si=n-W6SVGmQk2m4PVTVUI8lg)
> 
> [ Come bother me on Tumblr ](https://bimmyshrug.tumblr.com/)  
>    
> AUTHOR'S NOTE UPDATED 11/27/20: hey y'all. I know this fic has been away at war for a long ass time, I know that there are people actively waiting for me to finish it. I get asked a lot if I've abandoned it, so let me clarify now, I HAVE NOT ABANDONED THIS FIC. it's a hard fic to write and I needed a break, and then my whole world sort of came crashing down this year, so I'm sorry that I haven't been writing as much as I'd like to in general, but especially this fic. I love writing this fic and I am honored that so many people want to see it through to the end with me, but I beg for your patience. I am literally homeless right now and life has been especially fucking mean this year (as I'm sure you all can relate to) so writing has taken a backburner for now. I apologize for making you wait and not responding to comments and messages and asks about it, it just gives me a lot of anxiety because I hate disappointing people. 
> 
> I WILL FINISH THIS FIC, I PROMISE. my original plan was to finish before the year ended, but that's probably not going to happen obviously, and I have no other info on when I anticipate on finishing yet, unfortunately. 
> 
> love y'all. be well, happy holidays. love u guys. take care of yourselves, please ❤️
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS BELOW - CONTAIN *****MAJOR SPOILERS********  
> //////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////  
> fetishization of sexual inexperience, blood (multiple mentions), needles, mentions of vomit, disordered eating, insecurity, body dysmorphia, unhealthy trauma coping, unsafe sex, discussion of STDs, blood draws, drug and alcohol use, potentially dubcon? (no sex, just kissing/biting but could still be triggering), internalized homophobia, homophobic language, verbal arguments, threats of physical violence, discussion of the death of a parent, unhealthy relationship dynamics, explicit sexual content (blowjobs, anal fingering, ass eating, anal sex, 69ing), recording a sexual encounter on video, what could potentially be considered coercion. seriously seriously unhealthy worldviews and untreated mental illness here, folks. obsessive behavior and unhealthy copes out the wazoo  
> ////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

By the time they’re standing outside of the clinic on campus the next morning with their hands connected between them, Eddie is so nervous he wants to be sick.

“It’s gonna be okay, Eds,” Richie offers in encouragement, but Eddie doesn’t feel encouraged. He feels nauseous, he feels like crying.

“What if I have an STD, Richie? What if I gave _you_ an STD? That’s sort of a big fucking deal,” Eddie sniffles, aggressively wiping at his wind-reddened nose with the sleeve of Richie’s jacket that he has on his shoulders.

“I mean, depending on what it is. I’ve had an STD before. A couple, actually. And as long as it’s one of the ones where you just take a few pills and it goes away, it’s no big deal,” Richie shrugs, and Eddie glares up at him.

“Telling me you’ve had STDs isn’t exactly a comforting thing, Richie.”

“I’m just being honest, Eds,” he shrugs, “Besides, I’m sure you’re fine.”

“How could you possibly know that? I have no idea who even- I don’t remember who it was,” Eddie whispers, and Richie just shrugs again, and Eddie is starting to think maybe they should have gone separately, because Richie’s nonchalance has him on edge.

“Just a feeling.”

They eventually make their way into the clinic, and Eddie is so, so horribly embarrassed. He doesn’t even want to talk to the receptionist, he’s so embarrassed. But he manages, somehow, and soon enough he and Richie are both sitting in the waiting room, waiting for the nurse to call them back to get their blood drawn.

“I hate getting my blood drawn,” Eddie warns, shaking his leg so aggressively that the plastic chair he’s sitting in is squeaking with the movement. “Also hate doctor’s offices, and hate the smell of disinfectant.”

“I haven’t gotten my blood drawn in forever. I thought we were just gonna do a pee test,” Richie shrugs, and Eddie feels his neck get sweaty.

“Well- Well a pee test doesn’t test for… you know,” Eddie whispers, and Richie shakes his head in confusion.

“For… you know, for HIV,” Eddie whispers almost inaudibly, glancing around at the other patients in the waiting room, wondering how many of them have guessed that they’re a gay couple at a health clinic getting a fucking STD test together.

And if any of them haven’t, they certainly will now, because Richie drapes his arm across Eddie’s shoulders and pulls him into his side.

“Right, gotcha.”

“You seem very relaxed about all of this.”

“Well, I mean, I just got tested for the clap, like, a few months ago. And it’s not like I don’t use condoms,” Richie shrugs, and Eddie sighs, allowing himself to sink into Richie’s side, despite his worries about what the other patients at the clinic are thinking about them.

“Didn’t use a condom with me,” Eddie whispers, and Richie looks down at him with a frown.

“I mean… yeah, you’re right. That was stupid. I just wasn’t planning on all that happening and I just… I don’t know. I didn’t think about it, I’m sorry,” he says earnestly, and Eddie glances up in surprise at the seriousness of his tone.

“Shouldn’t you sort of, like, carry condoms around with you if having casual sex with people you don’t know is something you do semi-regularly? I mean, I can’t be the first person you spontaneously decided to have unsafe sex with.”

“You are, actually. Since high school.”

“You haven’t had unprotected sex with anybody but me since you’ve been in college? I find that hard to believe,” Eddie raises an eyebrow at him, and Richie scoffs.

“I haven’t! Well, like, does it count if you’re in a relationship? Because I dated this girl for a while my freshman year that had an IUD so there wasn’t really a point in condoms.”

“IUDs don’t protect against STDs, Richard.”

“Yeah, but we were in a committed relationship!”

“You told me you’re a cheater.”

“ _Was,_ I was a cheater. And I always used condoms with the people I cheated on her with,” he shrugs, and Eddie sighs, trying to rub the headache out of his temples.

“Have you ever considered being less frank?”

“You told me to be honest.”

“Yes, but hearing about the way you’ve been your entire life still gives me crippling anxiety.”

“Well, I’m not gonna be like that anymore. I promised, and I meant it,” Richie assures, lifting Eddie’s chin up until they’re eye-to-eye. “Also meant it when I said that you’re peak, and that I don’t plan on wanting to fuck anybody else. Like, ever. For the rest of my life, probably.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and tries to pull away, because this feels like too intimate of a moment to be having in public. But Richie doesn’t let him, and leans down to press a kiss to his lips before pulling away to kiss him on the forehead, too.

Eddie’s name is called a few minutes later, and he feels another wave of anxiety punch through him as he stands from the squeaky waiting room chair.

“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Richie encourages, patting him on the ass. Eddie throws a glare at him before he begins walking toward the nurse who called his name, but he stops halfway, biting almost aggressively on his lip.

“Can- Can he come with me?” he asks the nurse, who glances behind him at Richie.

“Is he your friend?”

“He’s- Yeah. Boyfriend,” Eddie manages to say awkwardly, and she glances back at Richie a second time before shrugging.

“Sure.”

Eddie motions for Richie to follow him and he nearly jumps up from his seat, jogging over to grab onto Eddie’s hand as they walk back into the blood lab room.

Once he’s sitting in the weird reclining chair, Eddie already feels like he wants to pass out. Luckily, Richie is holding his hand, and flirting with the phlebotomist (who is a very sweet old woman named Pam), and that’s helping, too.

“How long have you been doing this, Pam?” Richie asks her casually, resting his chin in his palm that isn’t holding Eddie’s hand.

She starts readying her needle and the two vials that she’s going to fill with Eddie’s blood, and Eddie tries not to look at them, but it’s hard not to stare at something that’s about to extract something from your body. Ugh.

“25 long years, and from the looks of it, it’ll be 25 more,” she jokes, and Richie laughs sweetly at her.

“Wow, 25 years? So you must basically be an expert at this by now,” Richie tells her, squeezing Eddie’s hand in encouragement.

“I’d say so. I don’t think there’s anything I haven’t seen by now,” She assures, pulling out a piece of tubing to wrap around Eddie’s arm, and he flinches away already.

“Sorry,” he says immediately, and Richie rubs the back of his hand with his thumb.

“Are you nervous, sweetheart?” she asks, and Eddie nods, closing his eyes as she ties off his arm above the elbow.

“He’s not a fan of doctor’s offices,” Richie adds, and she tut-tuts.

“Oh, that’s a shame, dear. I used to be afraid of the doctor as well, a lot of people are. You get used to it when you’ve worked in the medical field for so long, so I suppose it just doesn’t faze me anymore,” she shrugs, cleaning off a patch of Eddie’s skin with an alcohol swab.

“I just don’t like blood, either. Makes me dizzy,” Eddie says quietly, making a fist when Pam prompts him to. Richie squeezes his hand again in encouragement as she readies the needle, and Eddie starts breathing slowly through his nose, trying not to open his eyes.

“Well, you’re lucky you’ve got such a sweet friend here to help you through it,” she praises, and Richie laughs, and Eddie laughs too, which distracts him enough that he barely notices when the needle presses into his skin.

“We’re very close; practically brothers,” Richie jokes, and Eddie wants to smack him, but settles for squeezing his hand as Pam finishes filling up the second vial and bandages him up.

“That’s so sweet. You don’t often see boys your age so close,” she praises kindly, and Eddie cuts a glare at Richie, who is clearly trying to hold back an amused smirk.

“It’s a shame, isn’t it, Pam? I wish more boys felt comfortable being as close as Eddie and I are.”

Richie seems much less nervous than Eddie was, but Eddie still holds his hand once he’s sitting in the chair. He doesn’t chat Pam up, though, mostly because Richie can’t ever turn his mouth off, and he’s still doing it fine on his own.

“You’re very vascular,” she comments as she’s choosing one of Richie’s veins, poking around at a few of the lines traveling up and down his arm.

“Is that… a good thing?”

“Well, it’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it could mean you’re dehydrated. How much water do you drink every day?”

“Uh… there’s water in coffee, right?”

Pam tut-tuts, cleaning off a patch of Richie’s skin with an alcohol pad. “You’ve gotta drink water, dear. Six cups a day, at the minimum.”

“You know, Pam, you remind me a lot of my grandmother. I mean, she didn’t have a habit of poking me with needles and stealing my blood, but still.”

Pam laughs as she prepares her supplies again, readying another two vials. “Stealing? What use would I have for the blood of a bunch of college students?”

“Just saying, it’d be pretty easy to inconspicuously live as a vampire phlebotomist,” Richie jokes, and Pam lets out a little snort. “Although you’d probably be drunk at work all the time, if most of your supply was coming from college students.”

“That, or worse. These kids around here are on all sorts of drugs,” she sighs. “They’ll get themselves killed, some of them. And these girls going to parties and taking all these drugs from men they don’t know… it makes me thankful that all my girls are already in their 30s,” Pam says gravely, and Eddie swallows down the lump in his throat as he watches Richie’s blood spill into the vial.

“It’s so terrible, isn’t it, Pam?”

By the time they leave, Eddie is feeling better about everything. They made the first step toward having a healthy sex life, and Eddie feels really good about that. They’ll get the results back in a few days, and then everything will be smooth sailing. Hopefully.

Richie cranks the heat in his car once they’re driving back to his apartment on campus, and Eddie is grateful for it. He’s been so fucking cold lately, all the time. More than he usually is.

“Sooo, what do you say we skip class for the rest of the day so I can finally give you your reward?” Richie suggests, and Eddie rolls his eyes, rubbing his fingers together in front of a heat vent.

“I’m going to end up flunking out because of you.”

“Nah, you’re a good student.”

“Hard to be when my delinquent boyfriend convinces me to skip class every other day.”

“I like spending time with you! Sue me!”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling, because Richie is fucking cute and he can’t fucking say no to him, for fucks sake.

“Is it gonna take all day?”

“Perhaps.”

“Cryptic.”

“You’ll see, Eddie my love.”

Richie is practically vibrating out of his skin with excitement by the time they make it back up to his apartment. Eddie stops at the front door to take off Richie’s jacket and to kick his shoes off, and as soon as he’s done, Richie lifts him around the waist and starts carrying him off to his bedroom.

“Is this the reward? You’re just gonna fuck me now?” Eddie guesses, half-joking as he wraps his legs around Richie’s waist and allows himself to be carried.

“I mean, it wasn’t, but I can absolutely scrap my original plan if you want to spend all day having sex instead.”

“I wanna wait for our test results to come back.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie grumbles, before dropping Eddie down onto his bed to rummage around in his bedside table. “Close your eyes.”

“And open my mouth?” Eddie guesses, fluttering his eyes closed as he hears Richie sigh and close the drawer.

“I’m trying to be a good boy, Eddie, and you’re making it hard for me.”

“Want me to make something else hard for you?” Eddie giggles, but it’s cut off by a gasp as Richie grabs the hair at the back of his head, with his mouth suddenly at Eddie’s ear.

“If you’re gonna be a tease, then your reward is going to be swallowing my cum after I’m finished fucking that bratty little mouth of yours.”

Eddie whimpers and starts to open his eyes, and Richie pulls harder on his hair, and he lets out an embarrassing, broken little moan at the feeling.

“I didn’t tell you to open your eyes yet.”

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut again immediately, and Richie loosens his grip on Eddie’s hair, gently petting through it as he chuckles softly.

“Good boy.”

Eddie wants to say something sassy in return, but he’s breathing too heavy and he knows Richie will make fun of him for getting worked up so easily, so he doesn’t. He sits there with his eyes closed and listens to Richie shuffling something around, and he tries to guess what he could possibly be doing.

“Kay, open.”

Eddie blinks his eyes open to find his line of sight filled with a page of one of Richie’s sketchbooks, with about half a dozen different drawings on it, all various designs of bees. He’s confused, for a moment, and dumbly blurts out, “for me?” before reaching out to take the sketchbook from his hands.

“Yes,” Richie laughs, scooting closer so he can look over Eddie’s shoulder. “I started sketching out designs I thought you’d like last week. This one is my personal favorite,” Richie tells him excitedly, pointing to a semi-realistic drawing of a bumble bee with a geometric design surrounding it, consisting of a large rhombus with smaller triangles and dots around it. Eddie feels stupid looking at it, because his brain still can’t catch up to speed.

“And I have all of the stuff to do it, like today, if you want. I mean, no pressure. But I’ve been wanting to give you a tattoo since we talked about it forever ago, and I wanted to surprise you.”

Eddie lets out a small gasp, running his finger gently over the drawing with his fingertip. “You really- you did this for me?”

“Of course. I’ve been excited about this for, like, weeks.”

Eddie is struck silent for a moment, sort of overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of this. He had honestly forgotten about that conversation, and knowing that it’s something Richie has clearly been thinking about a lot makes him feel warm in his chest. And he clearly put a lot of time and effort into these designs, and wow, Eddie is overwhelmed.

“Richie, I- I don’t even- I don’t know what to say,” he near-whispers, and Richie goes quiet next to him.

“I mean, like I said, no pressure. You can say no, or if you don’t like any of the designs, I can-”

“No!” Eddie exclaims, “No, oh my god, I love them. I think this one is my favorite too,” he says, pointing to the same drawing Richie had pointed out before. “I just- I’m just overwhelmed. I’m just- my brain is having a hard time catching up,” he admits, and Richie wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist to press a kiss onto the top of his head.

“Thank you, Richie. This is… one of the most thoughtful things someone has ever done for me.”

“You’re welcome, baby. I mean, it’s mostly selfish, since I desperately want to be the one to give you your first tattoo, but you’re welcome anyway,” he laughs, and Eddie rolls his eyes playfully.

“You just want to leave a mark on me that won’t go away.”

“Yeah, figured that was obvious.”

Eddie smacks him on the arm before putting the sketchbook down on the bed, spinning around to climb into Richie’s lap.

“Seriously, Richie. Thank you,” he says softly, feeling his heart beat faster at the look of adoration in Richie’s eyes.

“I’d do anything for you, baby,” he replies, and Eddie might take it as a joke if he didn’t say it so softly while looking into Eddie’s eyes like that.

Eddie doesn’t know how to respond so he kisses him, wrapping his fingers gently into his hair to keep him there. He feels bolder right now than he normally does, and he’s not sure why, but it’s a good feeling, and he wants to capitalize on it while he can. So he brushes his tongue against Richie’s lips and Richie opens his mouth immediately, and Eddie presses inside, tightening his grip on Richie’s hair until he’s moaning softly between their mouths.

Richie tastes a little bit like cigarette smoke like he does sometimes, and Eddie finds himself starting to like it. Which is not something he’d ever thought he’d like, but there’s something sexy about it when it’s Richie. Though that might just be because he thinks everything about Richie is sexy, even the way he smells like sleep and sweat first thing in the morning. Eddie has found himself pressing his nose into Richie’s skin before he wakes up just to smell his body, which is also not something Eddie thought he would ever do.

But he feels addicted to it, sometimes. Everything about Richie, really. His eyes and his hands, and the way his arms feel so solid when they’re wrapped around Eddie’s waist. The texture of his disastrous hair, and how Eddie spent the first few weeks knowing him wanting to do nothing but run a comb through it constantly, and now he feels something like comfort or relief zip through him as soon as he sees his inky mess of curls.

He knows he shouldn’t feel as strongly for Richie as he does already, but he’s found himself struggling more and more lately not to say things that he knows he shouldn’t say to him. And it’s weird, because he’s never really felt love for somebody like that. He loves his mom, in a complicated, painful way that he doesn’t really understand. He loves his friends, though that sort of hurts right now, too. But from the depths of him, something feels like it’s always trying to burst out from behind his ribs and under his skin to get closer to Richie, something feral and untamed that wants to live inside of him and crawl behind Richie’s ribs instead.

He’s ripped from his thoughts when Richie pulls away from his lips, gasping in panting breaths that ghost across Eddie’s face, and he’s tempted to try to suck them into his own lungs, just to have more of Richie inside of him.

But that’s weird, and he knows it is, and he reminds himself to calm down before he does something strange to freak Richie out. And freak himself out, because this feeling sort of scares him. He doesn’t understand what the fuck is going on with him.

“Jesus, baby. What’s gotten into you?” Richie laughs breathlessly, and Eddie’s eyes are drawn to his mouth once again when he darts his tongue out to lick Eddie’s spit from his bottom lip, and a shiver goes through Eddie’s whole body that gives him goosebumps.

“Sorry, I’m just- just happy. Just excited,” Eddie flushes in embarrassment, and Richie hugs him tighter to his body with his arms around his waist. Eddie feels nearly high off of the contact, and sort of wishes that he could feel Richie’s skin against his own right now.

“I’m not complaining. The opposite, actually; super into it. Be excited more often,” Richie smiles before pressing his fingers into Eddie’s hair to place another brief kiss onto his lips. Eddie wants to chase it, to just spend all day like this, tasting each other and breathing each other’s air, but he doesn’t have the chance to before Richie is speaking again.

“So do you want to?”

“Want to what?”

“Let me tattoo you.”

“Yes,” Eddie says without hesitation. “Yeah, definitely.”

Richie goes to take a shower after that, and Eddie is tempted to ask if he can join, but he knows that if he does, he won’t be able to stop himself from asking Richie if they can have sex now. Which he doesn’t want to do, for a few reasons. The first being that he really does want Richie to give him his tattoo, and the second and most important being that he really does want to wait until they get their test results back.

Which feels sort of stupid, since it’s not like they haven’t already been intimate. But it’s more the principle of the matter. He wants to be safe and do things responsibly, even if he hasn’t up until this point. He wants to do things the right way. It feels sort of like he’s trying to prove something to himself, and he knows that’s dumb, but he’s been behaving like a horny high school kid. And he has more self-restraint than that. He thinks.

Richie told him to eat something before they start, so that’s what he does while he’s waiting. And when Richie comes out of the bathroom in his boxers, rubbing a towel into his hair, Eddie has to stop himself again from following him into his bedroom and saying ‘fuck it’ to this whole idea and just spending the day in Richie’s bed pressing their skin together.

Instead, he goes to take a shower himself, and by the time he’s done, Richie is already dressed and waiting for him in the living room, with a box full of what he’ll need to permanently leave marks in Eddie’s skin.

Truthfully, Eddie is terrified to get a tattoo, but he doesn’t want to make that too apparent. Especially because Richie seems so excited, and Eddie is excited too, really, but he’s also fucking scared, and he already feels like he can’t sit still. Which is particularly bad in this circumstance, obviously.

He doesn’t normally deal very well with needles, as evidenced by this morning. But tattoo needles are different, so it’ll probably be fine, right? At least, that’s what he tries to tell himself until he sees the long, thin, intimidating needles that Richie pulls out of a box, along with his black tattoo ink and the rest of his supplies, which he puts down on the ground next to Eddie’s leg where he’s lying on the floor.

Something about seeing the needles in their sterile packaging is making his anxiety worse, and Eddie keeps trying to stop himself from staring at them, but he can’t. Mostly because one of those needles is gonna be fucking stabbing into his flesh soon, and he’s sort of rethinking this whole idea.

Richie goes to grab some paper towels and leaves Eddie alone with the needles, and he’s so tempted to investigate, but he doesn’t want to risk accidentally compromising their sterility. God, they’re so fucking long. They seem way longer than they need to be, and the big hoop on the opposite end of them is oddly sinister looking.

Eddie must look nervous when Richie comes back into the room, because he lets out an amused chuckle.

“Pussying out already, Eds?”

“I’m not pussying out! I just don’t like needles!”

“You’re already paler than a fucking ghost and I haven’t even taken them out of the packaging yet.”

“I’m just nervous!”

Richie puts his hands up in a placating gesture before sitting back down onto the ground next to Eddie, and Eddie decides to just not look. Just like at the doctor’s office. If you look, it makes it worse. So he’s just gonna keep his eyes closed the entire time.

“Take your pants off.”

“Jeez, already? You’re not gonna buy me dinner first?” Eddie jokes, but it sounds a little hysterical, and he can’t get his fingers to stop shaking as he undoes his fly.

“Speaking of, did you eat a snack like I told you to?” Richie asks with an eyebrow raised, and Eddie huffs indignantly.

“Yes, I did.”

“More than a few crackers?”

“Yes!”

“What did you have?”

“I made a sandwich,” Eddie grumbles, finally pulling his pants down and kicking them out of Richie’s work area.

“Good boy,” Richie praises, and Eddie wishes he could be mad about it.

Once Eddie is in just his briefs, Richie hikes the hem up as high as it’ll go before grabbing a roll of masking tape to tape the fabric out of the way.

“Is that sanitary? The tape, I mean.”

“More or less.”

“Gee, you’re really inspiring confidence.”

“You said you didn’t want to be naked, the fuck else am I supposed to do?”

Eddie hesitates, biting the inside of his lip.

“Well- Well if I take my underwear off, can I have a towel or something to cover my dick?”

“You’ve busted in my mouth, Eddie. Don’t see the need for modesty.”

“What if Ben or Beverly come home and I’m just dicked out on the living room floor?!”

“They might see a penis, oh no,” Richie rolls his eyes, and Eddie goes red.

“Well, sorry I don’t want the whole world to see my dick like you do.”

“In some schools of thought, it’s considered a crime to keep beautiful works of art from being seen.”

“Well, good thing my dick is unimpressive and unremarkable,” Eddie says with an eye roll, and Richie scoffs at him.

“Unremarkable? I have plenty of remarks regarding every part of your body, so jot that down, first of all. Also, your dick is proportionally sized for the rest of you, Edward. Imagine how stupid your five-foot-nothing ass would look walking around with a fucking whopping knee-knocker. Plus, if you had a big swinging peepee, none of your tight little pants would fit, and that would be an unforgiveable travesty.”

“I’m sure it’s easy to say that when you have a big swinging peepee,” Eddie grumbles, and Richie goes to start unbuttoning his own pants.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Eddie screeches, slapping Richie on the wrist.

“Now that you’re my boyfriend, if you start talking about my dick, you’re obligated to put it in your mouth. That’s the rule.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, and Richie sighs dramatically, but ultimately buttons his pants back up. “You talk about my dick constantly, and yet I’m not getting blowjobs left and right,” Eddie argues, and Richie raises an eyebrow at him.

“If this is you giving me permission to blow you whenever I want, trust me, that will change.”

“I think it would be stupid to give you permission to do _anything_ whenever you want,” Eddie grumbles, and the look that Richie gives him in return makes him blush across his cheeks. “Shut the fuck up and go get me a towel.”

Richie huffs and rolls his eyes but ultimately stands again, heading in the direction of the bathroom.

“A clean one!” Eddie adds, and Richie flips him off before disappearing through the door.

He comes back with a fucking hand towel, and Eddie wants to bitch at him for that too, but he figures it’s probably for the best. The least amount of fabric, the smaller chance of something getting contaminated, right?

“Are you absolutely sure I’m not going to get an infection from this, Richie?” Eddie frets, momentarily hesitating before shoving his briefs down his legs. He lies back down onto the wooden floor and looks up at Richie, who is wearing an amused expression, and he blushes furiously before covering himself with the towel.

“Well, Eds, I only ever got an infection from a poke once, and it was almost entirely because I tried to give myself a tattoo of a dick while I was way, way too high and just straight up stabbed myself with the needle,” Richie explains, pulling up his pant leg to point at what looks like a few stray lines on his calf. Eddie doesn’t quite see it at first, but after looking for a moment, he can definitely tell that it was going to be a dick.

“Why… why the fuck would you tattoo a dick onto yourself?” Eddie asks, rubbing at his temples in exhaustion.

Richie shrugs. “Seemed funny at the time. Still seems funny now, honestly,” Richie snickers, and Eddie lets out an exasperated sigh.

“I… you know, sometimes I really wonder how you manage to be so charming and intelligent and artistic, and yet such a fucking disaster at the same time.”

“That’s so funny, that’s almost exactly what my dad said during his toast at my graduation party.”

“I can’t believe I’m about to let you permanently brand my body after you gave yourself an infection from a dick tattoo.”

“I’m more mature now! More experienced! That was forever ago. Like, last fucking semester. Now I know to wash my hands first and that it’s a bad idea to reuse needles.”

“You are not fucking inspiring confidence, Richie!”

Richie just laughs again, and Eddie glares up at him from the floor, which makes him laugh harder. “I’m just fucking with you, Eds. I seriously know what I’m doing, I promise. This is, like, what I want to do for a career, I’m pretty sure. I’ve done this, like, hundreds of times.”

Eddie softens immediately. “You- You want to be a tattoo artist?”

Richie shrugs, tying his hair back with an elastic. “Think so. I don’t know, I guess. I really like doing it, and I want to be able to actually create art for a living, so… yeah. I think so.”

“That’s… that’s really cool. Sorry, I didn’t mean to make it seem like I don’t trust you or something, I’m just- just nervous,” Eddie explains softly, and Richie gives him a soft smile.

“I know, baby. I promise I’ll be gentle,” he assures, and Eddie lets out the breath he’s been holding. “Honestly, that’s part of why I didn’t want you to let Bev do it, too. She seriously is a fucking butcher. Like no offense, they always come out really nice, but she’s so heavy-handed, and it fucking hurts. You would never let me go near you with a needle if you let her poke you first.”

“That’s surprising. I figured it’d be the other way around.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Edward?”

“Well, you know. Bev is a gentle person, and you’re not.”

“First of all, Bev is not a gentle person. You saw her fucking wrestle me to the ground and throw me off of the fucking couch. That’s not what I’d call gentle,” Richie defends, rubbing subconsciously at his ribs. “And second, I can be gentle.”

“Still doubtful.”

“I can when I want to be! I just don’t usually want to be. Especially with you,” Richie winks, and Eddie rolls his eyes again.

“Right, well, hopefully you can manage.”

Eddie manages to relax enough to let Richie start preparing, and once he’s ready to start drawing his outline, Eddie sincerely feels much better about this whole idea. Maybe because Richie seems to genuinely know what he’s doing, like he said. Who would have thought?

“Kay,” Richie begins, uncapping a red Sharpie, “how big do you want it to be?”

Eddie hesitates, biting his lip. “I guess… I guess, like, fist sized? Maybe a little smaller?”

“Your fist or my fist?” Richie laughs, and Eddie punches him on the leg.

“Shut up.”

“It’s a valid fucking question! I’m not just making fun of you, Tiny Tim.”

“Sure seems that way,” Eddie grumbles, letting out a sigh. “Just make it, like, 3 by 3?”

“As you wish.”

As soon as Richie starts brushing the marker against the skin of his thigh, Eddie is absolutely sure he will not be able to sit still for the needle, because he’s already squirming at the sensation of the dry scraping of the Sharpie.

“You know, I thought this would be a lot more romantic than it is,” Eddie tries to joke, but his leg twitches as Richie gets closer to the joint of his hip, and Richie starts tut-tutting.

“Oh, Eddie, baby. You’re gonna have a hard time, aren’t you?”

“I’ll be fine,” Eddie snaps, though he’s pretty sure he won’t be fine.

Richie has him get up to go look at the outline in the mirror once he’s finished drawing it, and Eddie’s legs feel dangerously wobbly with nerves by the time he comes to lie back down on the floor.

“Good?”

“Yeah, looks great,” Eddie whispers, and he already feels a little sick to his stomach.

“Baby, maybe we should wait. You look like you’re gonna vom,” Richie suggests gently, and Eddie waves him off.

“’M good, don’t worry. All good.”

“Eddie, I’m not trying to freak you out. But you know that, like… you’re gonna go into shock, right?”

No, Eddie didn’t fucking know that.

“What?”

“Yeah. Your body is gonna go into shock a little bit. Not, like, right away, but after a while. I mean, it shouldn’t hurt as bad once that happens, at least. But your body always goes into, like, minor shock whenever you do stuff like this. Piercings, tattoos, whatever.”

Eddie lets out a huff of a breath, pressing his knuckles into his eyes. “I should have gotten fucking drunk for this.”

“Do you want to?”

Eddie hesitates, feeling very, very tempted. “No, I already feel nauseous. I don’t think filling myself up with a bunch of liquid is a good idea either, if there’s a good chance I might puke.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, just… just go for it. I’m tough.”

Eddie closes his eyes and doesn’t watch as Richie disinfects everything, and takes the needles out, and wraps medical tape around them to make little makeshift grips. He doesn’t open his eyes at all until Richie touches his hip, and Eddie flinches, his eyes flying open.

“Ready?” Richie asks gently, and Eddie tries so hard not to look at the fucking needle in Richie’s hand, but his eyes are drawn to it like a magnet. At least it looks smaller now that Richie is holding it. That’s a small comfort.

“Born ready,” Eddie replies with a grimace, giving a half-hearted thumbs up before closing his eyes again.

And you know what, for the first five or so pokes with the needle, he really does manage to stay still. He does. And he’s nearly proud of himself until his leg jerks up, and Richie firmly grabs Eddie’s knee to stop him from lifting it any further.

“Can’t have you doing that, Eds,” he warns seriously, and Eddie nods frantically.

“I know, I know. Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

And he manages not to move again for a good while longer, but it’s starting to fucking _hurt,_ like his skin is already fucking raw and Richie just keeps poking and poking and poking at it. And it’s un-fucking-bearable.

His leg tries to jerk up again and Richie presses it firmly back down into the floor, glaring down at Eddie with a scolding expression on his face.

“You’re only making this harder on yourself, baby doll.”

Eddie whines miserably in the back of his throat, bringing his hands up to tug on his hair. “How far along are you?”

“Barely at all, sweetheart; you keep moving.”

Eddie smacks his head against the wood floor, taking a deep breath before spreading his arms to either side of him and wiggling his toes to try and get rid of some of the jittery panic that’s nestled underneath his skin. He nods up at Richie when he feels ready again, and he elects to just try being vocal, since it might help him not to move his body.

“Fucking fuck, that fucking hurts,” Eddie grits out once Richie starts poking at him again, and he keeps doing it, but eventually he’s nearly screaming, and he can’t keep the tears out of his voice.

Richie sighs and stops again, and Eddie blinks his eyes open to look up at Richie through his tears.

“I respect the coping method, but my neighbors are going to think I’m murdering you in here,” Richie reasons, and Eddie lets out another pathetic whine.

“Richie, it hurts so bad,” Eddie complains, and Richie puts the needle down to rub a comforting hand into the skin of Eddie’s thigh, just below the area he’s been working on.

“I know, baby. We don’t have to do this, you know. You can stop. I just thought you wanted me to.”

“I do, I do want you to. I don’t want to stop,” Eddie argues, and Richie lets out a sigh.

“Well, babe, I can’t really keep going if you’re gonna keep screaming and moving around so much. Eventually the cops will show up, or your leg is gonna look like ground beef by the time I’m done,” he explains, and Eddie leans up to look down at his leg, and at first he thinks the red he sees is just from the Sharpie, but he realizes it’s his blood when Richie wipes it away with a paper towel.

“Oh, god,” Eddie swallows down his nausea, feeling his skin go clammy. “Can I just- can you just pack me a bowl or something? I just need something to help me chill out,” Eddie decides, and Richie bites his lip for a moment before standing and heading off to his bedroom.

“I’ll do you one better,” he says when he comes back, and he’s got a pill bottle in his hand, and Eddie sits up to look at him skeptically.

“What’s that?”

“Percocet.”

“ _Percocet?_ Richie, no, no,” Eddie says frantically, sitting up on the floor in panic. Richie waves him off and takes one of the pills out of the bottle to start crushing it up on the coffee table, on the same mirror that they snorted coke off of when Eddie overdosed.

“Richie, seriously. I don’t want to,” Eddie says seriously, and Richie pauses.

“It’s really not a big deal, Eds,” he laughs, because he doesn’t think it’s a big deal, but Eddie certainly fucking does.

“You know that Maine is in the middle of a horrible opioid crisis, right? I mean, are those even prescribed to you? Are those yours? Because you can get in serious legal trouble if-”

“Eds, you’re not gonna start fucking shooting up if you snort one perc. It’ll make it so you don’t even feel it, I promise.”

Eddie bites his lip, still feeling unconvinced. His mom wouldn’t let him take anything stronger than ibuprofen when he broke his arm, ranting at the doctor when he tried to prescribe Eddie Vicodin. _Do you want to turn my son into a pill popper? What are you thinking?! You might as well shoot him up yourself!_

“Well- Well what does it feel like?”

“Like… like you’re wearing a heated blanket on the inside,” Richie says, still working on breaking the pill down into a fine powder, and Eddie doesn’t really get what that means.

“Is it… is it gonna last a long time? I mean, how fast does it start working? And am I gonna be, like, a drooling mess all day?” Eddie asks anxiously, and Richie chuckles, looking over to raise an amused eyebrow at him.

“If you snort it, it starts working pretty fast. Faster if you take a few shots. It doesn’t last that long, just a handful of hours. Though I’m sensing you’ll want to take a nap after this anyway, so it doesn’t even really matter, does it?”

And, once again, it sort of does matter. “I don’t know, Rich. I’ve never- I’ve never done pills before.”

“You don’t say?”

“I’m serious, Richie. I’m nervous,” Eddie says gravely, and Richie sighs before coming to sit back down next to him, carrying the mirror with him to place it on the ground next to them.

“Well if you don’t want to wait, and you don’t want something to take the edge off, then I don’t know what to do for you, Eds. I can tie you down, if you want. I’d never pass up the opportunity to have you all trussed up and at my mercy,” Richie winks at him, and Eddie rolls his eyes, but he feels the backs of his knees go sweaty.

“You promise… you promise I’ll be okay? I’m not gonna- gonna overdose or anything, right? You know you’re not gonna give me too much?” Eddie asks, anxiously wringing his hands in his lap.

“Yes, Eddie, I’m sure,” Richie rolls his eyes with a sigh, and Eddie worries that he’s being annoying with all of his questions, because Richie seems like he’s getting frustrated now. “The only time you ever overdosed with me was when you sort of took matters into your own hands, remember? I know what I’m doing, you can trust me.”

Oh. Right. That’s true.

“Besides, I have Narcan, if you’re really that worried about it.”

“Why… why do you have Narcan?”

“Just in case. You never know,” Richie shrugs, but the knowledge that he would even potentially be in a situation that called for Narcan has Eddie feeling panicky underneath his skull. He’s not fucking cut out for this.

He takes a deep breath and looks back down at his leg, which barely has any ink down and is already bubbling up again with blood. He swallows down his nerves and nods, reaching for the mirror and the same little piece of straw that he last held when he ended up overdosing in Richie’s bed all night.

He takes another deep breath before snorting up the little pile of white powder, and he can feel his heartbeat in his ears as he lets out a panicky little breath. No going back now. He’s committed.

Richie gives him an encouraging thumbs up and a kiss on the forehead before standing to go to the kitchen, and Eddie wants to ask where he’s going, but he’s too preoccupied by feeling anxiety roiling around underneath his skin as he’s waiting for the high to hit. Which it hasn’t yet, not like with coke, and the wait is making him so nervous that he feels sick. He just wants to know what the fuck it’s going to feel like, so he can stop convincing himself that it’s somehow going to feel like overdosing on coke did, even though he knows that doesn’t make any sense.

Richie comes back with a bottle of vodka and a shot glass, and Eddie is sickened by how _relieved_ he feels to see them, hoping desperately that the alcohol will speed up the high like Richie said it would.

“Doing okay, baby doll?”

“Y-Yeah, just- just don’t know what I should be expecting.”

“You’ll know it when you feel it. It feels sort of like when you pull on a loose thread on a sweater and it just keeps going and going and going until it’s a pile of string,” Richie explains, and weirdly, that makes more sense than what he said the first time. Eddie nods before bringing his un-inked leg up to his chest to rest his head on his knee.

“Here,” he says, bumping Eddie’s leg with the bottom of the shot glass. Eddie reaches out to take it and shoots it down without hesitating, gritting his teeth.

“Why’s it so fucking cold?”

“Who likes warm vodka?”

“Isn’t it easier to shoot if it’s room temperature?”

“Maybe, but it tastes fucking awful,” Richie shrugs, pouring Eddie a second shot, which he also downs right away before gesturing for his cup of water on the table, which Richie hands to him so he can wash it down.

“Surprised to hear you say that,” Eddie says honestly, and Richie laughs, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Why?”

“Because you drink all the time.”

“Out of necessity, not because I just adore the taste of rubbing alcohol,” Richie laughs again before pouring a third shot which he downs himself, and Eddie smacks him on the leg.

“Don’t get fucking drunk right before you tattoo me, you fucking asshole!”

“It’s one shot, Eds. One shot hasn’t gotten me drunk since I was, like, eleven,” Richie assures, ruffling his hair before standing, but Eddie doesn’t feel reassured, for a few reasons. “Besides, wouldn’t you rather me stave off the shakes? Steady hands, cleaner lines,” Richie jokes, or maybe not jokes. Eddie can’t tell sometimes.

He puts the bottle and the shot glass on the coffee table before reaching for his bowl and his grinder, and Eddie watches raptly as Richie picks up the ground weed with his fingertips before gently packing it into the bowl. Eddie is sort of upset that he was too nervous earlier to watch Richie while he was drawing the outline on his skin. He’ll have to pay more attention next time.

Richie takes a hit himself before handing the bowl and the lighter over to Eddie, which Eddie also sort of wants to yell at him for, but he figures Richie has probably done this high more often than he’s done it sober. So it’s fine. It’s fine.

Eddie takes a few hits before lying back down on the ground, resolving to just close his eyes and wait for the high to hit.

He’s so high off of the weed that he doesn’t even realize when the percs start to kick in, and he only realizes it because he blinks his eyes open to ask Richie how long it’s been, and his words slur around inside of his mouth.

And then he starts to feel it. The warm, fuzzy feeling on the inside that does sort of feel like having a heated blanket under his skin, he realizes. It’s like the feeling of the sun warming your face on an early summer day, but radiating out from the middle of him and running through his veins.

“Oh, Richie,” he tries again, and tries to lift up one of his arms at the same time, but it feels too heavy and he ends up dropping it back down to his side on the floor.

And it’s weird. Feeling this incapacitated is a feeling he assumes he’ll always associate with panic, and fear, and being out of control and helpless.

But he simply can’t bring himself to care. The haze over his brain feels too good for him to care.

“Richie,” he tries a third time, and Richie chuckles, and it melts like butter inside of Eddie’s ears.

“Yes, baby?”

“I… I’m high,” Eddie tells him, and Richie laughs before climbing back down onto the floor next to him and readying his supplies again.

“Think you’re ready to try again, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” Eddie agrees, and his voice sounds wobbly inside of his head.

“Just relax, baby.”

Which Eddie does, easily. He just lies there, allowing his mind to go blank as the warm fuzzies float around inside of him, and sometimes he’ll look up at Richie and get all smiley, watching him focus on poking Eddie with a needle that he can’t even feel anymore. Richie looks so cute when he’s all focused.

“Richie,” he calls softly, and Richie glances up from his thigh to give him a smile, and Eddie giggles.

“You make me so happy.”

“You make me happy too, baby.”

“Richie?”

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“Did you know that I think you’re my favorite person ever?” Eddie admits, sort of realizing it for the first time himself, too. But he means it.

“Did you know you’re extra adorable when you’re high?” Richie coos, leaning over to give Eddie a kiss on the forehead before going back to focusing in his lap. Eddie can feel his leg jiggling with the stabs of the needle, but it sort of just feels tingly, not like the raw stabbing before.

“Riiichieee.”

“Yes, baby?”

“I feel like Jell-O.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yeeees.”

“Then good, I’m glad to hear it, baby doll.”

“Richie?”

“Yes, Eddie my love?” Richie croons, and Eddie forgets what he was going to say, because he can’t stop giggling.

“Should I call you stuff? Like ‘baby’? Do you want me to?” Eddie eventually asks, because he’s never really thought about it before, but maybe Richie would like that. Eddie thinks he’d like it, too.

“You can call me whatever you’d like to, sweetheart.”

“I like calling you Daddy,” Eddie says immediately, earning himself another chuckle from Richie as he wipes off Eddie’s leg again before continuing.

“I like it when you call me Daddy, too.”

“I thought I wasn’t gonna, ‘cos… ‘cos…” something itches at Eddie’s brain, and he doesn’t really want to think about it. Not right now, at least, when he feels this gooey good feeling, and he’s happier than he remembers being in a while. “I donno.”

“Well, I’m glad that you do,” Richie laughs, and Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever adored a sound more.

“Daaaaaddy.”

“What’s up, kitten?”

“Did you know I don’t have a dad?” Eddie blurts out, and he’s not really sure why, because he wasn’t even thinking about his dad. He doesn’t really ever think about his dad, not really. Not anymore.

“I had a feeling.”

“He died.”

“I’m so sorry, baby.”

“S’okay. I was only 5 when he died. I don’t remember him that much. He was already really, really sick by then. He used to sneak me snacks sometimes when Ma wasn’t looking. I think he was nice,” Eddie rambles, remembering the times when his dad would pull him into his lap while his mom was doing dishes, and he’d pull little wrapped candies out of his pockets. He’d put his fingers over his lips as he slipped them into Eddie’s palm, and Eddie would make the same motion in return as they giggled, like a pact between them. _Don’t tell mommy, Eddie. Our secret, okay?_

“I’m sorry you never got to know him,” Richie tells him softly, and Eddie is thankful that Richie doesn’t have those soft blue eyes turned on him at the moment, and he’s still focusing so closely on stabbing into Eddie’s skin.

“I’m kinda happy I didn’t, since… since Ma says he would have disowned me, too. I’m kinda happy he died sometimes. Does that mean I’m a bad person?”

“Not at all, baby. Your mother is awful to you, it’s fair that you wouldn’t want to get treated the same way by your father, too.”

“I wish he died in less pain. He was so sick. He had cancer. I remember how small and pale he looked,” Eddie recalls, remembering the last few weeks his dad was alive. He didn’t seem very alive, though; he was barely ever awake, and Eddie would walk past his parents’ room where he was nearly always lying in bed, looking dead already.

“It must have been hard to see him like that.”

“Mostly I just didn’t know why he never wanted to play with me. I didn’t know he was just too sick. I used to think- I thought I had cancer too, when I got sick. Because that’s what he had. I was so scared.”

“You got sick too?” Richie asks curiously, and oh yeah, Eddie never told him. Not that he’d really have a reason to, but he spends a lot of his own time wondering how different his life might have gone if he hadn’t gotten sick, and he forgets that other people don’t know sometimes. Especially now that it’s not obvious when looking at him that he was a ‘sickly child’ anymore.

“Uh-huh. I had bronchitis, right after dad died. Mom says I almost died, too.”

“When you were 5? That must have been terrifying,” Richie says softly, and Eddie feels him rub comfortingly along the side of his leg as he takes a break to pour more ink into one of those little cup things, and that feels nice.

“I remember being scared, but that’s it. Well, I also remember Ma being so sad. I think- I think that’s why I never said anything when she started making me take all the medicine. ‘Cos I thought she knew what was best, and I didn’t want her to be so sad again if I died like my dad,” Eddie sighs, and in some part of his brain that feels so far away from him now, he knows he probably shouldn’t be telling Richie all of this. But it feels nice to finally tell somebody.

“Medicine?”

“When I got better, she started giving me all kinds of medicines that she said would make it so I wouldn’t get sick again. She didn’t let me play outside and stuff, either. I didn’t know that I didn’t need all the medicine for a really long time. Mr. Keene told me, it wasn’t even my mom. He said my mom was lying and my doctor was too scared to tell her no, so he just prescribed whatever she asked him to. My doctor always said I was a ‘late bloomer’ ‘cos I was so sick. But I wasn’t sick. So I think it’s ‘cos mom was giving me so much medicine. But I don’t know,” Eddie finishes his ramble with a sigh, then cringes at the vivid scent memory of hospitals and doctor’s offices that waves over him at the smell of whatever Richie is using to wipe off his leg. “I’m afraid of the doctor. Your dad is a doctor, right?”

“Um… uh, yeah. He’s- he’s an orthodontist,” Richie says softly, and Eddie sort of wants to see his face, but he’s turned away.

“Ugh, I _hate_ the dentist. But you have nice teeth. Is that why your teeth are so nice?”

“Yeah, I didn’t really have a choice. If I didn’t floss twice a day it was like I’d slapped him across the face. He used to make me put my retainer in in front of him to make sure I was actually wearing it. My sister and I used to hide candy in her room and eat it before bed without brushing after to try and get cavities just to spite him,” Richie recalls with a small chuckle, and Eddie closes his eyes at the flood of warmth that washes over him at the sound of it.

“You’re lucky you have a sister. Are you close with your sister?”

“Now I am, and when we were little we were inseparable. Once she hit 12, it was basically World War III in my house at all times between the two of us until I moved out.”

“But you guys are close now?”

“Very.”

Eddie pauses, realizing he’s never really asked anything about her. “What’s her name?”

“Piper. She goes by Pippy, though. Big time. _Loves_ when people call her Pippy, keep that in mind. It’s her favorite,” Richie insists with a smirk, and Eddie nods very seriously, remembering to keep that information in his pocket for later. If he ever gets to meet her. When he hopes he eventually gets to meet her.

“Richie and Pippy. That’s so cute. You guys are cute.”

“Don’t know about me, but she definitely is.”

“She looks just like you, though.”

“When have you ever seen my sister?” Richie asks with a laugh, raising his eyebrow at Eddie curiously. And Eddie slaps a hand over his mouth, realizing he’s said something he shouldn’t have. But whatever, cat’s out, might as well be honest, right?

“Whoops. I didn’t mean to say that. I spied on your laptop a little bit and I saw a drawing you made of her. It was really pretty. I’m sorry,” Eddie admits guiltily, and Richie points an accusatory finger at him that pulls a deep frown onto his face.

“I fucking knew it, you little sneak.”

“I’m sorry, please don’t be mad at me,” Eddie begs in a whine, already feeling like he wants to cry a little bit. He knew he shouldn’t have done it. He knew Richie would find out eventually.

But Richie just laughs. “I’m not mad at you, Eds; I was just joking. I don’t really care,” he shrugs, pausing to check his progress before he resumes his poking. “Whatever you found on there probably permanently scarred you, so I feel like that’s punishment enough for your sins.”

Eddie goes red, remembering what he found on there, and tries to push it away. Now’s not the time to be thinking about that. He mostly succeeds.

“I saw the one you made of me, too.”

“The… what that I made of you?” Richie asks skeptically, shooting a glance down at Eddie that makes him feel sort of nervous, for some reason.

“The- The drawing.”

“Oh. Which one?”

“There’s- is there more than one?”

“Yeah, a couple.”

“Can I see?”

“When I’m not stabbing you with a needle, sure,” Richie laughs, and Eddie glances down to watch his thigh jiggle with the little stabs Richie is making in his skin.

“Oh, right. I forgot. I don’t even feel it anymore,” he admits, and Richie chuckles at him, looking down at Eddie with an amused smile on his face.

“Well good, that was the whole point of getting you so high.”

“I’m _so_ high, Richie.”

“I know, baby doll.”

“Does it look nice so far?”

“Yeah, it’s coming out great now that you’re not flailing around.”

“I’m gonna name him…Barry B. Benson,” Eddie jokes, then starts laughing at his own joke, which has Richie laughing so hard that he has to take a break from tattooing again.

“God, just fucking marry me already,” he insists through his laughter, and Eddie’s heart lifts as he continues letting out cheerful little giggles.

“Richie?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Can we make out after this?”

“As you wish.”

He tries to stop himself from saying what he wants to say next, but it’s already bubbling up in his throat, and he doesn’t know how to stop it from passing through his lips.

“Sometimes I feel like I want to live inside of your body.”

He’s not sure what he’s expecting Richie to say, but it’s definitely not what he does say.

“I know exactly what you mean, baby doll.”

Eddie feels like he’s been lying there for hours when Richie finally says that he’s done, and he wants to cry out in relief. So he does.

“Finally! That took so long,” he complains, and Richie mocks offense.

“Sorry that your free tattoo wasn’t fast enough for your liking, your majesty. Next time I’ll be sure to rush through it,” Richie jokes, but Eddie frowns immediately, making clumsy grabby hands at him where he’s cleaning up all the excess ink and blood.

“I was just joking! I’m sorry,” he explains urgently, and he feels weirdly emotional, like he might cry.

“I was joking too, Eds,” Richie assures, reaching to take one of Eddie’s hands in his to kiss his knuckles before resuming his clean up. “Do you want to see it? Or do you want to wait until you’re not so high and it’s not so swollen?”

“Wait, please,” Eddie decides, because he honestly doesn’t think he’d have the capacity to appreciate it right now either way. So Richie finishes wrapping it up neatly, and Eddie tries to sit up, but his muscles feel so weak, so he lies back down with a whine.

“Richie?”

“Yes, baby?”

“I can’t stand up.”

Richie snorts out a laugh, and Eddie pouts up at him.

“Don’t laugh!”

“It’s sort of funny,” Richie insists, with an amused little glimmer in his eyes.

“Thanks for not making me OD,” Eddie says, and Richie barks out a laugh before he continues to clean up the rest of his supplies. As he does, he starts singing this song that Eddie doesn’t know.

“ _I've been misunderstood for all of my life, but what they're saying girl it cuts like a knife: ‘The boy's no good;’ well, I've finally found what I'm a-looking for, but if they get their chance they'll end it for sure; surely would, baby, I've done all I could_.”

“What song is that?” Eddie asks curiously, albeit reluctantly, because he loves listening to Richie sing and doesn’t ever want to interrupt. But he’s curious.

Richie raises an eyebrow at him in disbelief, and Eddie immediately gets embarrassed. “You’ve never seen _Pulp Fiction_?”

Eddie hesitates before being honest and shaking his head no.

Richie scoffs indignantly, and Eddie just shrugs his shoulders.

“That’s a fucking crime. And also took all the gas out of my joke, so thanks.”

“What joke?”

“Nothing, never mind,” Richie laughs quietly to himself, and Eddie pouts up at him again.

“Are you gonna help me up or not?”

Richie laughs again before standing, and Eddie’s pout deepens. “Just give me a minute and I’ll come help, okay Keith Richards?”

“Fine,” Eddie agrees reluctantly, watching with tired eyes as Richie goes to put his things away. He’s so tired, all of a sudden.

He closes his eyes for a moment, and the next thing he knows, he’s being scooped up off of the floor into Richie’s arms.

He lets out a startled yelp before fully realizing what’s happening, and then he goes limp while Richie carries him over to lie down on the couch.

“How are you feeling, love?”

“Good, so good. But sleepy.”

“Do you want me to take you to bed?”

Eddie shakes his head no, reaching up for Richie’s hand to try to tug him down onto the couch with him. He’s too weak to actually do so, but Richie seems to get the message and climbs onto the couch between his legs.

“You said we could make out when you were done,” Eddie pouts up at him, and Richie lets out a chuckle before leaning down to blanket himself over Eddie’s body, careful not to jostle his leg too much. Eddie briefly closes his eyes and lets out a soft sigh at the feeling, and he feels so warm all over, so nice and warm underneath his skin.

“Who am I to say no to an offer like that?” Richie winks at him before reaching up the hand that’s not supporting his weight to caress Eddie’s cheek, and Eddie leans into the contact, looking up at Richie through his eyelashes.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” he says softly, and Eddie giggles softly, shaking his head no.

“You are,” he insists, and Richie rolls his eyes, but he’s got a fond little smile on his face that has Eddie smiling too.

“Don’t know about that, but I’m glad you think so.”

“How come you always say that?”

“Because everything and everyone else in the world pales in comparison to you,” Richie tells him in a whisper, and his eyes look so dark and intense, and all of the air feels like it’s suddenly a thousand pounds in Eddie’s lungs.

“T-Thank you.”

Richie spends another long moment just staring at him, smoothing his thumb over Eddie’s cheek before dropping it down to his lips, rubbing gently over them in that way he does that makes Eddie’s breath catch in his lungs.

He’s staring at Eddie’s mouth, and Eddie wants to tell him to just fucking kiss him already, for fucks sake, but he doesn’t get the chance to before Richie pulls his mouth open with his thumb and immediately starts sliding their tongues together.

It’s a weird feeling. Eddie feels very aware of the kiss in a way that he isn’t usually, and he can’t tell if the heady, light feeling he gets is from the kiss or because he’s still as high as he is. Either way, he relaxes into it, allowing Richie to slot their lips together and lick into his mouth. Eddie doesn’t do much more than let him. It’s like he’s forgotten how to move parts of his body.

He doesn’t realize that he’s gasping until Richie pulls away to press wet kisses along his jaw and down his neck, and then he pulls Eddie’s shirt up to his chest to kiss all down his belly, and Eddie squirms around underneath him as Richie presses his fingers into his hips.

Eddie looks down as Richie presses a kiss to his bandaged tattoo, and he lets out a giggle, which causes Richie to glance up at him. “What’s that for?” he asks, and Richie smiles up at him, and god, he’s so fucking happy.

“A ‘get better’ kiss, so it’ll heal faster,” he explains, and Eddie knows he’s blushing, so he covers his face with his hands.

“Dork.”

Richie doesn’t respond and just keeps rubbing his hands along Eddie’s thighs, running his lips and his tongue all across his hips and his belly, and Eddie feels his body trying to react the way that it should, but he’s pretty sure he’s incapable at the moment.

Richie moves lower to start doing the same to Eddie’s thighs, and Eddie feels like he should make it clear that it’s not that he isn’t enjoying this, it’s just that he’s so high still, and it’s making all of his blood move so slow in his body.

“R-Richie, I can’t- I don’t think I can get hard.”

“I know,” Richie acknowledges between kisses to his skin, “I’m just appreciating you.”

And, well, Eddie is probably more likely to let Richie touch the places he’s self-conscious about right now than he’ll ever be again, so he relaxes and lets him do it.

He doesn’t realize that Richie is sucking hickeys into his skin until he bites down particularly hard and Eddie feels it, a little twinge of pain, and he looks down to see Richie staring up at him with his teeth clamped around the flesh of his inner thigh.

The look in his eyes is dark and _wanting,_ and Eddie feels his breath catch in his throat as Richie bites down harder, sending another little twinge of pain through him that has him gasping.

Once he releases Eddie’s skin, Richie spends a long moment licking over the bite marks that he’s left and pressing soft little kisses to the skin around it, and Eddie sees that he’s got love bites all over the insides of his thighs.

“Richie,” he gasps out in a breath, and Richie is still looking up at him with that look in his eyes as he pulls away from Eddie’s skin to lick over his lips.

“Yes, baby?”

“You bit me.”

“Don’t you like it when I bite you, kitten?”

“I can’t- I just can’t really feel it.”

Richie smirks and lifts Eddie’s arm up by the wrist before letting it fall back down on the couch with a thud, and he lets out a chuckle. “Yeah, you’re still pretty gone, huh? You’re cute when you’re all incapacitated.”

Eddie watches as Richie reaches a hand down into his pants, and he is sure that he was going to say something, but he can’t remember what it was as soon as he hears the front door open, and Bev’s voice calls out “Hello, boys! You home?”

Richie quickly sits up and wipes his spit from his mouth with the back of his hand, and Eddie assumes that he makes eye contact with Bev, because he shrugs at her.

“Bevvie! Bevvie, Richie gave me a tattoo!” Eddie tells her excitedly, trying to lift himself to a sitting position on the couch, only to mostly fall back over onto the cushions.

Richie grabs him by the arm to help him sit himself up, and once he does, he peers over the top of the couch to see her still standing in the doorway, looking between the two of them with skeptical eyes.

She walks slowly inside before kicking the door closed with her foot, and she offers Eddie a gentle smile. “Yeah? How did it go?”

“So good! Right?” Eddie asks Richie, and Richie nods, and Bev cuts her glance over to him.

“Yeah, went great. I’ll show you later when I take the bandage off,” Richie smiles tightly at her, and she takes a deep breath before moving to walk further into the room toward the couch.

Eddie looks down and remembers that he’s basically naked and yelps, reaching down to cup himself with his hands. “Bev, don’t come over here! I’m naked!”

She stops in her tracks and cuts eyes at Richie again, and Eddie wants to tell her that they weren’t having sex on the couch, because that’s what she must be worried about. But before he has the chance to, Richie is handing his underwear to him, and Eddie struggles to pull them onto his legs by himself. He manages, though, and then he smiles back at Beverly. “Kay, I’m decent.”

“Baby, do you want to maybe take a nap now?” Richie offers gently, placing a hand on Eddie’s knee. He considers it for a moment before agreeing with a nod, and he tries to stand up from the couch, but nearly falls over himself again.

Luckily Richie catches him by the arm and helps him walk to his room, and he turns around to give Bev a wave before they get to the door. “I’m gonna take a nap, now! But I’ll see you later, right? You’ll be here later?”

“Yeah, Eddie, I’ll be here,” she assures, and Eddie gives her a dopey smile before Richie pulls him into his room to guide him over to his bed.

By the time he’s snuggled into Richie’s sheets, he feels so tired that he could sleep for the night, rather than just a nap. But he doesn’t want to, because he wants to show Bev his new tattoo once he gets some rest.

“You’ll wake me up later, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, I promise,” Richie laughs, tucking the blankets tighter around Eddie’s body before kissing him on the forehead. “Get some rest.”

“What are you gonna do while I’m sleeping?”

“Um,.. not sure yet,” Richie shrugs, and Eddie wants to ask him to nap with him, but that’s too clingy, so he doesn’t. He knows he’s been a lot to care for over the course of the past few hours.

“Sleep well, baby,” Richie tells him, gently ruffling his hair.

Eddie just gives a tired nod before pushing his face into Richie’s pillows, inhaling his scent there, and it goes right to his brain and relaxes him even further as he melts into the pillows.

He hears Richie leave the room and close the door, and he’s ready to close his eyes and let sleep take him when he hears hushed voices in the hallway.

He doesn’t really care what they’re saying, not really, but his brain won’t turn off at the sound of other people talking. He tries to block it out, but some information still leaks through, and he just wants to go to sleep.

_What the fuck were you doing, Richie?_

_Nothing! We were just kissing!_

_Hard to kiss somebody with your head between their fucking legs._

_Bev, I swear, I wasn’t doing anything._

_What the fuck is he on, Richie? He’s acting like a drunk toddler!_

_I just gave him something to help with the pain, he couldn’t sit still._

_So you got him so high that he can’t fucking walk on his own?_

_I didn’t mean to, okay? He’s just so little, I didn’t realize he’d be so out of it._

_Yeah, Richie, he is really fucking out of it, isn’t he?_

_Are you fucking accusing me of something, Bev? I didn’t fucking do anything to him._

_Damn right you fucking didn’t, because you know I’d fucking kill you if you-_

_Smooth down those fucking hackles, molly. I didn’t fucking do anything, I promise._

It all sort of turns into word soup in his head, and by the time he falls asleep, he’s not sure that he even heard them talking at all.

He wakes to Richie gently shaking him, and he sort of wants to tell him to fuck off and let him sleep, but he smells coffee, and that finally rouses him.

He sits up in bed and stretches his muscles, grimacing in pain at the soreness in his leg. He pulls the cover back to expose the bandage on his thigh, and then he remembers. Richie gave him a tattoo. Right.

And he was high out of his fucking mind all morning. Double right.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Richie gives him an amused smirk, and Eddie reaches for the cup of coffee that Richie is offering him with a grateful smile. “I was waiting to see if you’d wake up on your own, but you’ve been out for a while, and I didn’t want to let you sleep all day.”

“How long was I sleeping?”

“Like three hours, almost.”

Jeeze. He was so deeply asleep that it feels like he was only unconscious for a fraction of that time.

“I gotta take your bandage off and clean you up. Plus, I figured you’d want to actually look at it, now that you’re not on Mars.”

Eddie sighs before dragging himself out of bed and following Richie into the bathroom, where he picks him up to place him onto the counter. He continues sipping his coffee as Richie slides his underwear down to his knees, gently peeling the medical tape off of his skin to pull back the bandage.

It sort of looks like a mess of black ink and blood when Richie first pulls it off, and Eddie cringes looking at it before stopping himself, because he doesn’t want Richie to think he’s disappointed or something already. Richie wets a paper towel with warm water and squirts some antibacterial soap onto it before gently wiping off Eddie’s leg, and once he wipes away all the yuckiness, Eddie’s breath catches in his throat.

It’s so beautiful. Not that he didn’t think it would be, but he’s sort of shocked seeing it and realizing that it’s on his body, permanently, and that Richie put it there. It looks nearly identical to the way it did in Richie’s sketchbook, and he’s sort of amazed, considering that the red outline he’d drawn on Eddie’s skin before starting didn’t have nearly this much detail in it. He reaches down to touch it with his fingers before remembering that he probably shouldn’t yet, and he looks up at Richie in awe as he starts rubbing something that looks like Vaseline over it.

“Richie, it looks amazing. Thank you so much,” Eddie tells him quietly, and Richie winks at him before going to wash his hands.

“Glad you like it, baby.”

“I’m just… I’m like, in awe. You’re so talented,” Eddie gushes, and Richie laughs awkwardly, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“Practice makes perfect, as they say. I’m surprised you even let me do it after seeing my first one on Bev. And the failed dick tattoo. You’re brave, honestly.”

“I just trust you,” Eddie tells him, and he doesn’t mean for it to sound as earnest as it does, but he means it. Richie gets almost a pained expression on his face before pulling Eddie’s head to his chest to kiss the top of his hair, and Eddie leans into it, feeling affection flood his chest.

“I’m glad that you trust me.”

“Don’t make me regret it,” Eddie jokes, but the words feel heavy in his chest, and Richie pulls his head back to look at him seriously.

“I won’t, Eddie. I promise.” The burning look in his blue eyes is enough to make Eddie believe him.

Eddie moves to pull his underwear back up and pauses, noticing the bruises lining his inner thighs and the large, purpling bite mark in his skin. He’s confused, for a moment, before remembering in the foggy part of his brain that Richie had done that, when they were lying on the couch. Eddie just couldn’t really feel him doing it, so it’s hard to remember. It all feels cloudy.

“Jeez, Rich,” he scolds, pressing his fingers to the bite and hissing softly at how tender it is. “Did you decide I’m a fucking chew toy while I was high?”

“I… sorry, I got carried away. I didn’t realize how hard I was biting you. My bad,” he apologizes, and Eddie is sort of mad, but not really.

“You’re lucky you didn’t break my skin.”

“I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t do that. I do have some self-control,” he laughs awkwardly, and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Right, I haven’t seen any evidence of that.”

“Haven’t you? I’ve held out for weeks instead of putting your fucking head to the floor and shoving my cock into you like I’ve wanted. That’s a pretty significant show of self-control.”

“Poor you,” Eddie snaps, and he’s not really sure where the anger comes from so suddenly. Richie puts his hands up in placation, and Eddie deflates.

“I’m not complaining, chief. Just saying I do have self-control. Sometimes. It comes and goes.”

Eddie rolls his eyes before reaching for his underwear again, and Richie reaches out a hand to stop him.

“You should wear something that won’t rub up against your skin for a while. Like sweatpants or something.”

“I don’t have any with me,” Eddie sighs, biting the inside of his lip. “I actually… am sort of running out of clean clothes.”

“So… do you want to go back to your dorm?”

Eddie’s heart clenches painfully at the suggestion, and he’s embarrassed by the way he reaches out a hand to cling onto Richie’s t shirt.

“No! No, please. I just- I mean, unless you want me to go home,” he backtracks, and Richie smiles softly down at him before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Of course I don’t want you to go home. I want you to move in with me, honestly, at this point. I’ll just go throw your clothes in the washer.”

“You don’t- you don’t have to do that, Richie.”

“I have to wash my clothes anyway, so I’ll just do them together. No big deal,” he shrugs, and Eddie sort of feels like crying again.

“You’re so- why are you so nice to me?” he asks, half-joking, but not really.

“Because I… I really, really really like you,” Richie laughs softly, and Eddie has to bury his head into Richie’s chest again so he can will his tears away before they fall.

“I’ll grab you a pair of pants and then I’ll go start the laundry, okay?”

Eddie nods into his chest before reluctantly allowing him to pull away, and he spends the few moments that Richie is gone telling himself to calm the fuck down. This is too much too fast, Eddie. Chill out. He’s your first ever boyfriend.

But the suggestion that there might be others in the future has his chest aching all over again.

The pants that Richie brings him are huge on him, and after he spends a good solid five minutes laughing so hard that he’s wiping tears out of his eyes, he helps Eddie roll up the waist of them and the legs of them and tighten the strings around the hips until they fit enough not to fall off of his body. They’re definitely loose, which is good, since they’re not rubbing up against his tattoo. And also because he’s not wearing any underwear, which feels weird.

When Richie goes down the hall to put their clothes in the washing machine, Eddie heads into the living room, and he lights up when he sees Beverly sitting on the couch reading.

“Hey!” he says excitedly, then feels bad, because she startles so badly that she jumps a little. She lets out a chuckle before dog-earing her page and smiling back at him, and he plops himself down onto the couch next to her. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Just wanted to show you how my tattoo came out.”

“No, it’s cool, I was just in my own world,” she laughs lightly, and Eddie admires the glimmer in her green eyes as he smiles back at her.

“What are you reading?”

“Just this book for my capstone. My thesis is going to essentially be a psychological profile for Antisocial Personality Disorder, so I’ve been reading up on every case study I can find, and a lot of those are, like, murderers and rapists, obviously. It’s fucking… super heavy, but also really interesting, in a morbid sort of way.”

Eddie nervously flicks his eyes down to the book now sitting on the coffee table, cringing at the title _Inside the Minds of Violent Offenders_ before looking back up at Beverly.

“Sorry, I know it’s a heavy subject matter. Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything.”

“No! No, you didn’t. I just- that sort of stuff gives me the heebies. I just don’t understand how anybody does things like that to another person,” Eddie says softly, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

“I don’t either, that’s why I’m studying it, honestly. I find it fascinating, especially cases like Ted Bundy, where the people close to him were so fooled, you know? They thought he was just, like, this sweet, charming guy. And it’s not uncommon for groupies to flock to these guys, even knowing how awful they are, you know? It’s crazy. Crazy what a handsome face and a warm smile can cover up inside of a person.”

Eddie really, super doesn’t want to talk about this anymore, but he doesn’t want to make Beverly feel bad by saying that, so he stands from the couch instead and pulls down the band of Richie’s sweatpants just enough to show her his tattoo.

“Holy shit, it came out amazing,” she gushes, and Eddie beams, even more excited about it now that Beverly thinks it looks so good, too.

“I really, really love it.”

“It almost looks like he did it with an actual gun, it looks so clean,” she notes, looking at it from various angles. “Then again, I’m sure you weren’t moving around all that much, considering how fucking high you were when I walked in the door,” she grumbles, and Eddie feels a pit form in his stomach, because she sounds disappointed.

“I just… it hurt so bad, I couldn’t sit still.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely not a pleasant sensation,” she agrees, and Eddie pulls his pants back up.

“Next time I’m gonna try to just sit for it and be tough,” Eddie assures, because he’s afraid that Bev is mad at him or something, even though he isn’t sure why.

“Please, I’ve never gotten poked sober,” she laughs, and Eddie cocks his head in confusion. “I just don’t think you needed to be, like, down for the count. Richie goes overboard sometimes.”

“Yeah, I told him I was nervous about it. I’ve never taken anything like that before, I was pretty freaked out about it.”

“What did he give you?”

“Um… Percocet?”

“How much?”

Eddie shrugs, and Bev narrows her eyes. “That was it?”

“Well, I also took a few shots. And smoked beforehand,” Eddie admits with a shameful blush, and Bev raises her eyebrows at him.

“Damn.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says awkwardly, wiping his palms on the material of Richie’s sweatpants.

He’s incredibly thankful when Richie walks back in the front door, kicking it shut with his foot before jumping over the back of the couch to plop himself down next to Eddie.

“Sooo anybody wanna get lunch? Because I’m fucking starving,” he asks, reaching for his bowl where it’s sitting on the coffee table. He clears it out and packs another one before taking a hit, then offers it to Bev.

“I’m good, I have class soon,” she says, and he rolls his eyes as he exhales.

“Lame,” he says, taking another hit before turning to offer it to Eddie next.

He hesitates for a moment before taking the lighter and the glass bowl from his fingers, and he takes a deep hit before passing it back over to Richie.

“So food or not? Because I’m wasting away here.”

“I’m not hungry at all,” Eddie says truthfully, and Richie rolls his eyes again.

“Shocker.”

“Whatever!”

“It’s probably because of the percs,” Bev says pointedly, and Richie narrows his eyes at her before taking another hit.

“Good point, Bevvie my dear,” he eventually says, then passes the bowl back to Eddie, and Eddie just looks at it in his hands. “All the more reason to get Eds stoned out of his mind so that he’ll actually fucking eat something.”

“Or you could, you know, give the kid a break since you got him so high that he couldn’t function earlier.”

“And wasn’t he better off for it?” Richie argues defensively. “Now he’s got a sweet tattoo, and he got to get high as balls for a few hours, free of charge. I feel like if anything, it was charitable of me. It’s not like I’m forcing pills down his throat; it’s just weed.”

“Not everybody is like you, Richie, and rallies up again right after being incapacitated. Maybe he just wants to take it easy for a bit.”

“Fine. What say you, Edward? Do you want to take it easy?” Richie asks him, and Eddie feels so put on the spot, and he hates it. And he’s still just staring down at the bowl and the lighter in his hands, and he feels panic settling tingly under his skin.

“Um… I actually- I think-” he cuts himself off and takes another hit before he can think too much about it, then quickly shoves the bowl back into Richie’s hands. “Why don’t I make us lunch? As a thank you for letting me stay here, I’ll make something,” Eddie offers, climbing over the back of the couch to escape the tension lingering in the living room.

He nearly runs to the kitchen to start looking through their cabinets, and he lets out a groan at the abysmal lack of food that they have. He’s climbing on the counter to pull down a box of pasta when he hears someone entering the kitchen, and he’s not sure if he’s relieved when he sees that it’s Richie.

“Hey, you okay baby?”

“Yeah, all good.”

“Eddie,” Richie says more gently, coming up to stand next to him where he’s now filling a pot with water in the sink.

“What’s up?” Eddie tries to ask casually, walking over to the stove to start boiling the water. And now he’s officially run out of things to do for the time being, and he panics. “You know, you guys need groceries. You have like, no food here. Do you know how much money you probably waste eating takeout every day? We should go to the grocery store, we could get ingredients for dinner and I can cook later if you want-”

“Eddie.”

He snaps his mouth shut, nervously glancing up at Richie where he’s standing a few feet in front of him. “Yes?”

“Are you alright? Is something wrong?”

Eddie’s knee-jerk reaction is to just say no again, but he barely swallows down the urge, knowing that Richie isn’t going to stop asking if he refuses to give a real answer.

“I’m fine. I just- I don’t like being put on the spot, and I got anxious. I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t mean to put you on the spot, Eds,” Richie says softly, stepping forward to rub comfortingly at Eddie’s shoulders.

“No- I know, I just…” Eddie sighs, looking down at his hands. He’s trying to build up the courage to be honest, but he can’t if he’s looking into Richie’s eyes. “I don’t know how to say no, sometimes. Especially to you. Because I don’t want to disappoint you, and I don’t want you to think I’m, like… uptight, or uncool, or whatever,” he finally admits, and Richie immediately pulls him into his chest, petting through his hair.

“Eddie, baby. You’re woefully uncool and uptight all the time, no amount of weed is gonna change that,” he jokes, and Eddie pinches him hard in the side, mumbling ‘asshole’ under his breath. He chuckles before pulling Eddie away and pulling his chin up to look at him, and his eyes are soft, and that makes Eddie feel better.

“Baby, you can say no. I’m not gonna be, like, mad at you because you don’t want to smoke, or you don’t want to drink with me or whatever. I wouldn’t be mad at you for that type of thing. It’s okay to tell me no,” he assures, and Eddie feels relief wave over him, and he feels really, really proud of himself. Which might be stupid, but this is a big step for him.

“Thank you. Sorry for being overdramatic.”

“Why do you say that all the time? I mean, you are overdramatic, but you always say that when you’re _not_ being overdramatic,” Richie teases, and Eddie pinches him again on the belly, making Richie shriek.

“Get those little gremlin claws away from my tender parts!”

“Stop being mean!”

Richie helps him to finish up making the pasta, and they bring it into the living room for Bev, too.

“Eddie made us spaghetti,” Richie tells her, then stops in his tracks, his entire face lighting up as he whips his head around to look at Eddie. “Eddie Spaghetti!”

“No, please, god no,” Eddie whines, and Richie lets out a cackle

“Guess you should have picked a different type of pasta, Spaghetti Man. You did this to yourself, really.”

“You’re the worst.”

“I’m the best, Eddie. The sooner you admit it to yourself, the better.”

Once they’re done eating, Beverly heads off to class. Ben ends up coming home while they’re waiting for their clothes to be done in the dryer, and as soon as he walks in the door, he collapses onto the couch in a huff next to them.

“Rough day, Haystack?” Richie asks, patting him on the shoulder, and Ben lets out a frustrated groan as he closes his eyes.

“I’m just so fucking stressed out. I’m so busy all the time and it still seems like I’m constantly behind.”

“Is it because of your capstone?” Eddie asks gently, and Ben peeks an eye open at him.

“Not even, it’s all my other classes. You’d think the 45 page thesis I have to write would be the real kicker, but the student teaching course I’m in is kicking my ass so badly that I sincerely think I might drop dead on my way to class tomorrow.”

“Is there any way I can help?” Eddie asks with a furrow in his brow, already knowing that there isn’t really anything he can do.

“Unless you can magically add 12 more hours onto every day, not really. But I appreciate the offer,” Ben smiles softly at him, and Eddie gives him a comforting pat on the leg.

“Well you’re done for the day, right? We were about to watch Star Wars, if you’re interested,” Richie offers, and Ben looks at him skeptically.

“Which one?”

“Phantom Menace, obviously.”

“Hard no, meme lord, but thanks for the offer. I’ve gotta eat something and head to the gym,” Ben sighs, dragging himself up off of the couch to begin shuffling to his room.

“We made pasta earlier, if you want some,” Eddie offers, and Ben politely shakes his head no.

“No thanks, I’m trying to stay away from carbs right now.”

Eddie bites his lip, wishing he could offer to make him something else, but they have fucking nothing in their kitchen.

“You could just skip a day, you know,” Richie says, and Ben lets out a defeated sigh.

“I’m skipping too much as it is. The less I go, the less I want to go.”

“Well, don’t push yourself too hard, I don’t want to get a call from the rec center that you’ve collapsed on an elliptical or something.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ben waves off Richie’s comment before entering his bedroom and closing the door. Eddie turns to Richie once he’s out of the room, biting his lip again in thought.

“Rich, can we go grocery shopping once our clothes are done?”

“You were serious about that?”

“Yeah, I wanna make dinner for you guys tonight.”

Richie rolls his eyes, dropping his head against the back of the couch. “You don’t have to cook for us, Eds. You’re not earning your keep or anything, we all like having you around.”

“I want to. I think it would be nice. Plus Ben seems so stressed, and I think it would be nice to make him something.”

Richie considers him carefully for a moment before breaking out in a smile and ruffling Eddie’s hair. “You’re so sweet, you know that?”

“Shut up.”

“I mean it, that’s really nice of you. I’ll help, if you want.”

“I just need you to drive me to the grocery store, I can do everything else. What does Ben like to eat?”

“Nothing. Rice cakes and yogurt,” Richie jokes, and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Seriously.”

“He loves tacos, but that’s not really a carb-friendly meal.”

“I’ll make it work.”

Ben leaves to go to the gym after mixing himself a protein shake, and Eddie helps Richie to retrieve their clothes from the dryer. Eddie immediately starts folding everything once they’re back in Richie’s room, and Richie stops him after he’s only finished folding two pairs of Richie’s jeans.

“Stop doing things for me.”

“It’s not like you’re gonna fold them.”

“Probably not, but that doesn’t make it your responsibility.”

Eddie ignores him and keeps folding until Richie snatches the basket of clothes away from him, and Eddie huffs indignantly.

“Just let me do something! I’ve basically been living here,” he grumbles, and Richie starts rummaging around in the basket for Eddie’s clothes. He pulls out Eddie’s black pants and his hoodie and tosses them to him, before also digging out a pair of socks and underwear.

“Just get dressed so we can go. If you want to fold your own clothes when we get back, be my guest. But you’re not gonna do my chores for me.”

“I thought you said you wanted me to be your maid.”

“In the sexy sense, like watching you flit around in a little skirt and bend over to dust under the bookshelves. Not to cook and clean for me.”

“I think you have a fundamental misunderstanding of what maids do, then.”

Once they’re in Richie’s car on their way to the grocery store, Eddie lets out a sigh, realizing that he doesn’t have a way to check his bank account to see how much money he has. Not having a phone really fucking blows.

“What’s wrong, kitten?”

“Just annoyed about my phone. Also don’t know how much money I have right now to spend on these groceries.”

“You’re not spending anything on groceries, I’m buying them,” Richie says firmly, lighting a cigarette before pulling onto the main road and off of campus.

“But I offered to make dinner.”

“Yeah, to make it, not to pay for it.”

“But-”

“No, Eddie.”

Eddie doesn’t bother arguing further, because he knows Richie isn’t going to back down.

Most of their time in the grocery store consists of Eddie gathering ingredients and Richie picking up random things that they don’t need and dropping them into the cart, and occasionally stealing the cart to run it down the aisles like a little kid, which Eddie wants to be annoyed by, but it’s sort of endearing. Not that he’ll admit that.

“Do you really need to waste money on Fruit by the Foot, Richie? Are you nine?”

“Nostalgia is priceless, Eds.”

Eddie gathers up the rest of the ingredients he needs before they go to the cash register, and Eddie cringes at the price of what they’re buying. He feels bad about it, for a moment, until he remembers that most of what they’re buying is stuff to stock Richie’s pantry. Even if most of it is junk food.

They spend the rest of their day watching Star Wars, and Richie actually does make them start with the Phantom Menace, much to Eddie’s disdain. By the time evening rolls around, Eddie is nearly excited to make dinner, and he hops up from the couch once Bev and Ben are due home in an hour.

“I’m just saying, I don’t know why everyone hates on the prequels. I mean, the meme potential alone is worthy of respect.”

“I think that’s why people don’t like them, Rich. Generally speaking, good movies don’t get memed to death.”

“Why must a movie be ‘good’? Can’t I simply enjoy watching Hayden Christensen and Natalie Portman deliver abysmally terrible acting for two hours without being judged for my preferences?” Richie asks, opening the fridge to grab himself a beer before leaning against the counter.

“Who the fuck is watching Star Wars for Hayden Christensen? Ewan McGregor is obviously the eye candy there.”

“Eh, I’m more into pretty boys,” he winks, smacking Eddie on the ass where he’s washing his hands at the sink.

Eddie throws a glare at him before drying his hands on a kitchen towel to start cooking, and Richie steps over to the sink to wash his hands, too. Eddie raises an eyebrow at him and Richie claps his wet hands together, sending droplets of water flying all over the kitchen.

“Okay, Chef Kaspbrak, how can I assist you?”

“By not fucking getting me soaking wet, thanks!”

“See, _now_ you’re being overdramatic.”

“Fuck you.”

“Seriously, how can I help?”

“By staying out of my way.”

“You’re being mean, Eds,” Richie pouts at him, stopping Eddie from going to the sink to wash the produce. Eddie sighs up at him and hugs the colander full of lettuce to his chest, biting thoughtfully on his lip.

“I don’t want you to help.”

“Why?” Richie asks, and something like sincere hurt flashes in his eyes, and Eddie feels like an asshole.

“I just- I said I was gonna make you dinner, so I want to do it by myself.”

“Eddie, you’re being silly. You don’t have to do stuff for me because I’m letting you stay here. Trust me when I say your company is payment enough,” Richie assures him with a soft smile, and Eddie feels his resolve weakening.

“I just feel like I’m freeloading.”

“You’re not. It’s not freeloading when you’re my boyfriend and I want you here.”

Eddie sighs but ultimately concedes, because he supposes Richie is right. It’s not like he’s making Richie house him. He’d leave whenever Richie asked him to, obviously. Not that he wants to. Obviously.

“Can you start browning the meat?”

“As you wish, my love.”

Richie ends up being a lot more helpful than Eddie anticipated, which is surprising, since he assumed that Richie doesn’t know how to cook.

“I used to help my mom cook all the time! I’m not that useless, Eds, jeez.”

By the time Ben and Beverly are walking in the door, they’re just finishing up plating everything, and it honestly looks really good. Richie holds his hand up for a high five which Eddie returns, and then Richie pulls him into a hug, squeezing him so tight around the middle that his back cracks. But it feels so, so good.

“This is the most domestic thing I’ve ever done, I want that on record.”

“You’re just a big softie now, huh?”

“Honestly, yes. If we keep this up, I might just start a dream house board on Pinterest and tag you in wedding centerpiece DIYs on Facebook.”

“Okay, _that’s_ officially the gayest thing you’ve ever said.”

“I stand by it.”

“It smells fucking good in here, did you guys order Mexican?” Bev calls out as she and Ben walk into the kitchen, and she stops in her tracks once she sees them standing there in front of the four plates of food on the counter.

“Did you- did you _cook?”_ She asks in disbelief, and Richie throws his hands up with a scoff.

“Why is everyone so surprised that I’m capable of cooking something?!”

“I know you’re capable, numb nuts, we used to help Mags cook all the time. I’m just surprised you went through the effort.”

“Eddie did most of the work, to be fair,” he says, which isn’t really true, but Eddie blushes at the recognition anyway.

“This looks really good, guys,” Ben comments, and Eddie picks up Ben’s plate in excitement, carrying it over to him.

“I know you’re on a low-carb diet, so I wrapped yours with lettuce instead of tortillas. Also it’s turkey instead of beef, so, you know, less fat,” Eddie explains, and Ben lights up, and Eddie feels the tips of his ears burning red.

“This is- this is incredibly thoughtful, Eddie; thank you,” he says softly, taking the plate from his hands. “I love tacos.”

Richie bumps Eddie with his elbow and raises an eyebrow at him, and Eddie presses his warm face into Richie’s chest, because he’s embarrassed by how red he is in the cheeks. He’s just not used to receiving praise like this. But it feels good.

They take their food into the living room to watch TV while they eat, and Eddie feels so full in his chest that it has him smiling dumbly into his tacos as he munches on them. And they did come out great, he has to admit.

“I could eat 300 more of those,” Richie announces with a sigh once he’s done, and Eddie holds his plate out to him with one and a half unfinished tacos still on it.

“Okay, no, not what I meant,” Richie says, pushing his plate back towards him, and Eddie sighs.

“I ate two! Two and a half, even. I’m so full.”

“How are you gonna grow up big and strong if you don’t eat, Eds?”

“Fuck off.”

“Please eat the rest of your food.”

“I’m gonna vom if I do.”

“Bullshit.”

“Richie,” Eddie sighs, waving the plate in front of his face. “I’m not hungry anymore, can you please just take them?”

Richie sighs, grabbing the uneaten taco off of the plate. “I’ll eat this one if you finish that one.”

Eddie bites his lip before nodding, picking up the rest of the taco as Richie shoves the entirety of his into his mouth at once.

“You’re gross.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full!”

“Sorry.”

“Ugh.”

Bev and Ben excuse themselves to go to bed once they’re all done eating, and Eddie is kind of sad that they didn’t get more time to hang out, but after hearing about how stressed Ben has been, he’s glad that they’re going to get some rest.

“Thank you guys so much for dinner, seriously. If you can get Richie to cook more, you can stay here as long as you want,” Bev winks at Eddie, and he blushes all over again.

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“It was awesome. You’re a really good cook.”

“Thanks, Eddie, seriously. That was really kind of you,” Ben adds, and Eddie starts getting flustered.

“Well- Well Richie helped a lot!”

“I didn’t help that much,” Richie mock-whispers, and Eddie smacks him on the arm.

“Goodnight, boys; see you tomorrow,” Bev announces, opening their bedroom door. “We’ll wash the dishes tomorrow since you guys cooked.”

“You don’t have to do that, Bev,” Eddie insists, but she waves him off.

“We’re gonna, and I’ll be mad if you do them first,” she points firmly before closing the door, and Eddie supposes he’ll just have to let it go.

“So, what do you wanna do now, Spaghetti?”

“Are you seriously going to start calling me that?”’

“Absolutely.”

Eddie rolls his eyes before walking toward Richie’s room, with Richie following close behind.

“I should probably finish folding all this laundry that you’re not gonna fold.”

“Orrr…” Richie trails off before hopping onto his bed to rummage around in his bedside table drawer, and a moment later, he pulls out a small box wrapped in silver wrapping paper with a white bow on top. “You could open your belated birthday gift.”

Eddie freezes on his way to the laundry basket, looking at Richie with wide eyes.

“What?”

“Surprise! Two surprises in one day, even. I’m basically in the running for Boyfriend of the Year.”

“Richie… why did you get me a birthday gift? I made it clear I didn’t want anything. And you already- you’ve already done too much for me, I can’t- I won’t accept anything else from you,” Eddie says firmly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, I wasn’t going to, but… it’s sort of a necessity, and I had the money, so….” he trails off with a shrug. “Plus it’s kind of a selfish gift, because I can’t handle not being able to text you all day. And you shouldn’t be walking around without a way to contact anyone if you’re in trouble or something.”

Eddie’s whole body goes electric with panic, and he picks up the closest thing to him to throw at Richie, which happens to be a discarded sweatshirt on his dresser. “You did not fucking get my phone fixed! I will kill you!”

Richie catches the sweatshirt and tosses it onto the floor, looking at Eddie with a grimace on his face. “I… I mean I didn’t, so does that mean I’m technically in the clear?”

“Did you buy me a _new phone?!”_ Eddie shrieks, and Richie winces at the pitch of it.

“It can be, like, a birthday and Christmas gift combo, if that makes you feel better.”

“I’m going to kill you, Richie!”

“Please don’t do that.”

“You need to bring it back! I’m not- I’m not taking it, I’m not- you can’t just- I’m not accepting that!”

“I can’t bring it back, I lost the receipt,” he shrugs, and Eddie feels like his head is going to pop right off of his neck.

“Richard, what the fuck were you thinking?”

“That you’re my boyfriend, and you needed something, and I was capable of supplying it.”

“How the fuck did you pay for this?”

“Just… had a very lucrative past couple of weeks, had some extra money. Figured this is the best use it could possibly go to,” he shrugs again, as if this is nothing, as if this isn’t a huge fucking purchase to make for someone that he’s just started dating.

Eddie takes a few deep, steadying breaths to get a hold over himself before climbing onto Richie’s bed to sit cross-legged across from him.

“Richie,” he begins more gently, “I… I appreciate the thought, but this is way, way too much. I can’t- I can’t let you do something like this for me.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because that’s… that’s so much money.”

“I got it on sale.”

“It doesn’t matter!”

Richie sighs, placing the wrapped box down between them. “I’m not going to return it, so if you don’t open it, it’s just gonna sit there. It’s gonna sit there all wrapped up for the rest of forever, and you could have had a nice, new, totally paid for phone. Just saying, Eds.”

Eddie bites his lip, staring at the silvery paper. “Will you let me pay you back over time?”

“No.”

“Richie!”

“No, Eds. It’s a gift. You don’t pay someone back for a gift.”

“This is the most expensive gift anybody has ever given me.”

“And that’s a nice stroke to my ego, so consider that payment enough,” he says, and Eddie rolls his eyes, staring at the box as if it might burn him if he touches it.

“What kind of phone is it?”

“Open it and see.”

“Richie.”

Richie just shrugs, gesturing toward the box before leaning back against his headboard, as if this is the most casual thing he’s ever done.

Eddie huffs, gently picking up the box between two fingers to place it in front of him on the bed.

“It’s not gonna bite you, babe.”

“It might.”

With shaking hands, Eddie slips his fingernail under the tape on the bottom of the box to rip off the wrapping, and his ears start ringing so bad that he feels lightheaded when he gets the paper off.

“You got me a fucking brand new iPhone, Richie?”

“I almost got you a Galaxy out of spite, but I figured you’d prefer to stick to what you know.”

“Is there- is there a catch or something? Is this when you tell me you’ve just wanted to be my sugar daddy this whole time? Is this- is this when you try to get me on a train to sell me into sex slavery in Arizona or something?” Eddie asks, trying to joke, but he’s crying by the end of it, so hard that his chest aches and he can’t hold in his sobs.

“Eddie, baby, why are you crying?” Richie asks urgently, leaning up to pull Eddie into his lap. Eddie covers his face with his hands and curls into Richie’s chest, letting his sobs wrack through his body. “I’m definitely not selling you into sex slavery; if anything, I’d pay you directly to be my sex slave. Which I guess is the same thing as being a sugar daddy, so I could get into that, too,” Richie jokes gently, but Eddie just shakes his head against Richie’s chest.

“This- This is too much.”

“Eddie, I didn’t think- I didn’t think you’d be upset. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not upset,” Eddie says, lifting his head from Richie’s chest to look up into his eyes, which makes it worse, because Richie looks so concerned. “I’m just- I don’t know how to deal with this.”

“Eddie, I mean it. I don’t want you walking around campus by yourself without a way to call for help. It’s 2019, having a phone is more of a necessity than a luxury, at this point. I’m more than happy to help you out when you need it.”

“I don’t know how to thank you for something like this,” he admits in a sob, leaning into the circles that Richie is rubbing into his back.

“A simple ‘thank you’ does just fine,” he laughs softly, and Eddie starts shaking his head against his chest again.

“No, no.”

“Fine, then thank me by using your fancy new selfie cam to send me cute pictures of yourself everyday so I can add them to my hoard.”

Eddie lets out a small laugh at that, pulling his head up from Richie’s chest to look at him. “Your hoard?”

“Oh yeah. I have saved every picture you’ve ever sent to me. They’re all in an album called ‘my precious.’ Straight up dragon hoard status. And I’m an insatiable bitch, so really, that’s the best repayment I can think of,” Richie tells him with a fond little smile on his face that Eddie feels himself returning, despite the tears still wetting his cheeks.

“I just- I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

“You don’t have to, baby.”

“I wish I could,” Eddie tells him softly before resting his head back onto Richie’s chest.

The encompassing feeling of _undeserving_ is sitting slimy all over him, like he’s dirty somehow for accepting this gift. He feels weirdly exposed. It’s a feeling he’s felt enough times in his life to recognize it, but he’s not sure if it has a name. The feeling that you’re unworthy to have the good things that you have in your life.

He finds himself feeling that way with Richie a lot. And it’s weird, because normally when he feels that way, he runs the other way. He thrusts the ‘too good for me’ things out of his life with such force that it leaves him feeling empty, sometimes. But he can’t with Richie. He’s so deeply infatuated that he can’t keep himself away, even when he knows that Richie deserves better than him.

And that’s selfish of him. It’s selfish to take up the time and energy and space of someone that you’re unworthy of having. But every day that guilty feeling feels like it’s transforming into something else, which is even scarier. Because Eddie finds himself thinking about things he shouldn’t more and more every day. Like the future, and Richie being in that future, and the two of them really doing all of the things that Richie jokes about, like living together or getting married someday.

Those are dangerous thoughts to have. He knows that. Because it’s dangerous to think that he can have those things when he still has this cloying, burdensome sense of guilt sitting just under his skin at all times. Because he’s a liar. And he’s not sure if that feeling is ever going to go away, because he doesn’t know if he ever wants to tell the truth. He’s been trying to relieve himself of that guilt by telling himself it’s okay to lie. It’s okay to lie, because he’s protecting himself, and protecting himself is the most important thing about healing.

But maybe that’s not true when you’re in a relationship; at least, when you’re in a relationship with someone that makes you feel the way that Richie makes him feel. And it keeps being an issue, and it seems like it would be so much easier to just be honest and see where the pieces fall afterward, and hopefully rebuild from there. But taking that step is terrifying, and Eddie isn’t brave enough.

He can still hold out hope that Richie is right, and that they can wipe it away like it never happened. He can still hope that if he’s able to have sex with Richie like a normal person in a normal relationship, all of this won’t matter anymore anyway. It’ll all wipe away.

Richie deserves that from him. He deserves to have a boyfriend who isn’t afraid to be intimate with him. He deserves for Eddie to be as excited to have sex as he is.

Which he is, truthfully. He is excited. But that doesn’t make it less scary. But he’s going to just go for it and try, because he won’t know until he tries.

And that’s how he ends up straddling Richie’s lap and pressing their lips together in a sloppy kiss, which seems to take Richie off-guard, because he makes a surprised sound in the back of his throat before cupping the back of Eddie’s neck and leaning into it.

Eddie knows he’s being messy, and that this isn’t the sexiest start to a kiss, and that he keeps clacking their teeth together, but he can’t stop. He can’t feel close enough to Richie all of a sudden, like he wants to crack his ribs open to swallow him whole.

And he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing, but he figures it doesn’t matter, because Richie never seems to mind that.

He’s panting into Richie’s mouth, and Richie has his hands underneath Eddie’s sweatshirt, and Eddie can barely think straight already. It doesn’t get any easier when Richie brings his thumbs up to rub harshly at his nipples, and he lets out a cry into their kiss, dropping his ass into Richie’s lap to grind against his cock.

But they’re wearing so many clothes, and he hates it, and he feels like he’s going to fucking die if he doesn’t feel Richie’s skin against his own right this minute. So he pulls away from the kiss to rip his sweatshirt over his head, and Richie does the same, and he’s breathing so heavy and looking at Eddie with that dark hunger in his eyes, and Eddie feels something inside of him ignite at the sight of it, knowing that he did that. He makes Richie feel this way.

He reaches down to undo Richie’s pants and Richie finally speaks, panting out his words between breaths.

“Not- Not that I’m not into this, but what exactly are we doing here, babe?”

“Want you to fuck me.”

Richie grabs his wrists where he’s just started tugging his pants down and stops him, and Eddie looks up at him in shock.

“As much as I so, so, _so_ want to say yes to that, I’m afraid you’re going to regret it tomorrow.”

“I won’t, I won’t. I promise I won’t.”

“You were very adamant about waiting, babe. I know it’s important to you, and I don’t really want to have an ‘I wish we had waited’ conversation with you about this tomorrow,” he says firmly, and Eddie takes a second to catch his breath.

Richie’s probably right, because Richie is usually right. And he really, really doesn’t want to wait right now, but he probably should, because it is important to him. It’s the principle of the matter.

But he doesn’t want to stop.

He bites his lip in thought before looking back up into Richie’s eyes, and Richie looks so serious, but Eddie can tell he doesn’t want to stop either, and Eddie has stopped them too many times already. “Will you let me suck you off?”

Richie takes a shuddering breath, dropping his head back against his headboard. “Is that- I mean, are you okay with that? With the test and everything?”

“Well I mean… I mean-”

“Let’s be honest, baby; anything we could have given each other from oral, we probably already have, at this point,” Richie says, and yeah, that’s true. That’s true.

“Yeah, I want to. Can I?”

“Yes, fuck. Yes,” Richie agrees, letting go of Eddie’s wrists so he can finish pulling down his pants and boxers.

Once he pulls them off of Richie’s legs, he goes to climb back into his lap, but Richie roughly pushes him onto his back to start undoing his pants, too, and Eddie tries to help him, tries to shove them down his legs himself, but Richie grabs his wrists again to stop him.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself,” he says firmly, and Eddie doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about until he starts gently tugging Eddie’s jeans and briefs down his legs, and he feels them rub up against his tattoo.

“Sorry, I forgot.”

“Just looking out for you, baby,” Richie says, carefully peeling his jeans off of his legs before throwing them off of the bed, and then they’re kissing again, and Eddie feels lightheaded already.

He wants to pull Richie back down and stop him when he pulls away again, but Richie sits up too quickly for him to do so.

“Go lock the door.”

Eddie doesn’t hesitate before he’s scrambling to the door, clicking the lock into place before nearly running back to the bed. But once he gets there, Richie is sitting on the edge of it with his feet on the floor, slowly stroking his cock, staring at Eddie like he wants to eat him whole.

“Get on your knees,” he orders firmly, and Eddie takes a shaky breath before slowly walking up to him to slink down between his legs, and Richie curses under his breath, and Eddie starts to feel that staticky fuzzy feeling dancing over his skin.

“You’re fucking perfect, you know that? You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says lowly, and Eddie keens in the back of his throat when Richie starts petting through his hair. He presses his face into Richie’s thigh, just staring for a moment as Richie continues to stroke his cock right next to his head.

“You’ve never done this before, right baby?”

Eddie nods against his leg and Richie tut-tuts, grabbing Eddie by the cheeks to pull his eyes up.

“When I ask you a question, I expect you to use your words,” he says firmly, and Eddie’s eyes flutter closed as he reaches a hand down to squeeze his cock, which is already so hard that it hurts between his legs.

“No, I haven’t,” he tries again, and Richie pets his cheek gently, looking down at him so intensely that Eddie can nearly feel it burning at his skin.

“I have another question, and when I ask, you’re going to use your words to answer like a good boy, right?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Is it okay if I record you, baby?” Richie asks, and Eddie is extremely taken off-guard, because that is not at all what he expected him to ask.

“Like- like a video?”

“Just for a little bit?”

Eddie hesitates, biting at his lip. He’s never really thought about that before, if he’d ever record himself having sex. It feels like such a dirty thing to do, and he’s not sure how he feels about it.

“That’s embarrassing,” he argues, and Richie starts petting through his hair again, and he leans into it.

“What’s embarrassing about it, kitten? You already sent me that pretty picture of you all covered in cum, remember?”

And yeah, okay, that’s a good point. But it’s different with someone else. It’s different if it’s a video.

“Have you- Have you done that before? With other people?”

“Yes.”

Eddie hesitates again, looking up at Richie while he thinks. And Richie just looks so good like this, looking at him with that darkness in his eyes that makes Eddie feel hot in his veins, and fuck.

“Y-Yeah, yes. Okay,” he finally agrees, and Richie immediately leans over to grab his phone from his bedside table, and Eddie feels nerves zing up his spine.

“You’re such a good boy, baby. Always so good for me,” Richie praises, and Eddie beams, and he watches as Richie opens his phone camera to point it down at him.

He’s not expecting the flash to be on when Richie starts recording, so he blinks when it hits his eyes, and suddenly he feels very, very nervous. He looks up toward where Richie’s face is, but all he can really see is the light from his camera, and the nerves get worse.

“You promise you won’t show anybody else?” Eddie asks meekly, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.

“Never,” Richie assures from somewhere behind the light, and Eddie relaxes by a fraction, but he feels hyper aware of the fact that this is all being recorded, and it puts butterflies in his stomach.

“Are you gonna be a good boy and suck my cock, kitten?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve never had a cock in your mouth before, have you baby?” Richie asks again, and the repeated question takes Eddie off-guard, so he shakes his head no.

“Words.”

“No.”

“’No’ what?”

“No Daddy, I haven’t.”

“Good boy, baby,” Richie praises, and Eddie leans into his touch again where he’s started combing his fingers through Eddie’s hair.

He tries to look up at Richie again, but all he can see is light still, so he tucks his face into Richie’s leg in embarrassment, feeling very, very exposed.

“Don’t be shy, kitten; you’re doing such a good job for me. Why don’t you put those pretty lips around my cock,” Richie guides, and Eddie remembers not to nod this time.

“Yes, Daddy,” he says, sitting up more properly on his knees before taking Richie’s cock into his own hand.

He’s realizing now that he has absolutely no idea what he’s doing, and he glances up at the camera nervously, giving a gentle squeeze that earns him a gasp from Richie. He starts slowly stroking up and down and pulls back Richie’s foreskin, but he’s not sure exactly where to start with his mouth.

“You doing okay, baby?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Just nervous?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want some help, kitten?”

“Yes, please,” Eddie agrees, though he’s not exactly sure what that means. Richie’s free hand reaches down to pet through his hair once more, settling at the back of his head to grab a handful; not hard, but firmly enough that it has Eddie gasping.

“Open your mouth, baby doll,” Richie orders gently, and Eddie immediately drops his jaw open, earning him a quiet _fuck_ from behind the camera.

Richie starts guiding his head down and Eddie starts breathing faster, blinking up nervously on instinct, only to remember that he can’t see Richie’s face. But he knows Richie is up there somewhere, and that’s still a comfort.

He’s still looking up when the tip of Richie’s cock hits his tongue, and he moans on instinct, fluttering his eyes closed.

“Get me nice and wet, okay baby? I want to fuck your throat,” Richie orders, and Eddie flutters his eyes open again, looking directly at the camera this time.

“Yes, Daddy,” he replies immediately, and Richie groans above him, which boosts his confidence even more. He starts licking all around the head and occasionally giving gentle sucks, and Richie’s grip tightens in his hair, causing more of that fuzzy static to explode in Eddie’s brain.

“You look so pretty on camera, kitten.”

Eddie’s heart starts beating faster, and he starts getting hot all over his skin at Richie’s growling voice. Richie guides his head down farther and Eddie continues his licking, doing what Richie said and getting his cock as wet as he can.

Richie keeps gently pushing, and eventually, Eddie has his lips stretched wide around the girth of him, and he can feel Richie’s cock hitting the back of his throat. He’s panting through his nose at this point and he’s shaking, and all he can focus on is the feeling of Richie in his mouth and Richie’s hand gripping his hair.

“Just relax, baby,” Richie tells him softly, and Eddie takes that very literally, going limp against the floor. He stops supporting the weight of his head as well and feels Richie’s fingers pulling against his hair as his body goes lax, and Richie curses under his breath again before he starts slowly pushing the rest of his cock into Eddie’s mouth and down his throat.

“Fuck, baby, Jesus Christ,” Richie moans in a shaky breath, and Eddie moans in turn at the sound of it, feeling his eyes roll back in his head at the sensation of Richie pushing into his throat. He’s giving in to the fuzzy feeling and it’s clouding over his whole brain now, and he can’t stop the keening little whimpers that he’s letting out around Richie’s cock.

Richie keeps pushing until Eddie lets out a gag, and then he pulls back slightly, allowing Eddie to take a deep breath in through his nose.

“You’re doing so good, baby, you’re so fucking perfect,” Richie praises, and Eddie’s heart lifts at the sound of it, and he relaxes all over again so Richie can start pushing in once more.

He makes it a bit farther before Eddie is letting out choked gags again and he pulls back, and Eddie feels tears welling up in his eyes with the force of it as he looks back up at the camera.

“I don’t think you can take all of me yet, kitten,” Richie tells him, and Eddie whines in the back of his throat, feeling panic tingle around in his brain. He’s being a disappointment. Richie is disappointed.

He grabs onto Richie’s wrist with one of his own hands before pushing his own head down further, and he tries really, really hard not to gag this time, but he still can’t make it all the way down before he has to stop, gasping in breaths around Richie’s cock.

“Baby, baby, hey, you’re doing so well, you don’t have to push it,” Richie reassures softly, and Eddie really wants to try again, but Richie takes over control, gently pushing Eddie’s head down to where he can still comfortably take Richie’s cock before pulling back up.

He repeats the motion a few times, and Eddie is still limp in his grip, and he feels so floaty inside of his head that he’s having trouble thinking clearly.

“Do you like being on camera, baby?” Richie asks, and Eddie nods before remembering Richie’s ‘use your words’ rule. Which is hard to do with a cock down your throat, but he does it anyway, letting out a garbled mess of words that Richie seems to like, because his grip tightens considerably in Eddie’s hair.

“Fuck, baby. Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy,” he breathes excitedly, and Eddie hums in acknowledgement, glowing from the inside at Richie’s praises.

“Just relax, kitten,” Richie repeats, and Eddie is already as relaxed as he thinks he could possibly be.

Richie shifts his hips forward slightly before he starts thrusting into Eddie’s mouth, and Eddie moans at the feeling, fluttering his eyes closed once more.

Richie generally does a good job of not going too deep, but occasionally, he’ll go deep enough that Eddie lets out small little chokes and gags that eventually have tears streaming down his cheeks. He’s nearly forgotten about the camera altogether when Richie’s voice speaks to him again, deep and gravelly, and he comes back from the fuzzy place just enough to follow his instructions.

“Look at me.”

So Eddie opens his eyes once more, blinking away his tears and letting them roll down his cheeks as he stares right at the camera lens, and Richie lets out another low groan, and Eddie can’t help reaching a hand down to stroke his own cock at the sound of it.

“Fuck, baby. Doing so good for your first time, just like I knew you would. You’re always such a good little kitty for me. Are you excited for Daddy to pop your cherry, baby?”

Eddie whimpers in the back of his throat at the question, which sort of confuses him and takes him off-guard, but more so it has him excited. _It’ll be like it never happened._

He nods as best he can, and Richie pulls his mouth off of his cock all at once, allowing Eddie to heave in panting breaths, trying to lick away the spit running down his chin.

“Use your words.”

“Yes, Daddy; I’ve been saving it for you,” he manages to gasp out, and he almost doesn’t recognize his own voice because it’s so hoarse and rough. Richie mutters out a harsh _fuck_ under his breath before he stops recording, tossing his phone back onto his bedside table with a clatter.

Eddie is blinking away the colorful floaties in his eyes leftover from the camera flash when Richie grabs him under the arms and lifts him up onto the bed, taking him off-guard enough that he lets out a small squeal.

Richie drags Eddie into his lap on the bed before encouraging him to turn around, but Eddie’s brain is still mush, so it takes him a moment to realize that Richie’s bruising grip on his hips is trying to twist him around to face the other way.

“What-What are you doing?” he asks in a daze, but he still swings his legs around, and he yelps again as Richie drags him up the bed until his thighs are around Richie’s head and Richie’s cock is in his face once again.

“Need to taste you,” Richie growls, and Eddie lets out a broken cry when Richie immediately grabs his ass in both hands to spread him open, burying his tongue into his hole.

“Richie!”

“Be quiet, baby; you don’t want Bev and Ben to hear what a slut you are, do you?”

Eddie bites down on his lip to stop himself from crying out again when Richie resumes licking, but the guttural moan that punches out of him isn’t much better.

“I told you to shut up, kitten.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy, I-”

He lets out another yelp when Richie spanks him hard on the ass cheek, and he feels so weak in his muscles that his arms are shaking with the effort to hold himself up.

“Shut the fuck up and suck my fucking cock.”

Eddie nearly collapses on top him as his arms give out, and he’s panting so hard that he feels lightheaded. Richie grabs him by the waist to pull his ass more firmly onto his face, and Eddie feels so spacey in his head that he can’t remember what Richie said to him, especially as he’s wracked with shivers at the sensation of Richie’s tongue lapping at him over and over and over again.

Richie spanks him a second time and that jogs Eddie’s memory, so he drops his chest down to rest against Richie’s belly and takes Richie’s cock in his hand, rubbing against the head with his lips.

Richie moans where he’s still eating Eddie out, and Eddie lets out another gasping moan in return, and he’s honestly not sure if he’s going to be able to focus on doing this while Richie has his mouth on him.

Still, he takes Richie’s cock into his mouth and starts licking all over, just like he had before. His mind is so blank that it’s nearly frightening, but Richie told him to do something, so he’s doing it. That’s all he needs to know, really.

He’s just started bobbing his head over Richie’s lap when he pulls his mouth away from Eddie’s ass, breathing rapidly against his hole and causing Eddie to let out a choked whimper. Richie spits between his cheeks before roughly shoving two of his fingers inside, and Eddie cries out around Richie’s cock in his mouth, though it comes out garbled and muffled.

“Fuck, baby, your mouth feels so fucking good. Are you sure you’re not lying to me, kitten? You’re too good at sucking cock for this to be your first time,” he says lowly, pressing his fingers down into Eddie’s prostate so firmly that his eyes start rolling back in his head.

Eddie shakes his head no around Richie’s cock, making sounds in the back of his throat that he thinks are meant to be a verbal response, but he’s honestly not sure himself anymore.

“You’re just a natural, huh? Born to take Daddy’s cock. You were fucking made for me, baby,” Richie growls lowly before licking over Eddie’s hole again, with his fingers still buried inside.

Eddie’s muscles give out all over again and he slides down further than he means to on Richie’s cock, and he doesn’t have a breath in his lungs when he does it. The lack of oxygen only makes the fuzzy feeling in his head more intense and he gags before pulling off of Richie’s cock to suck in a shaky breath, trying his absolute best to keep his voice down to an acceptable volume. “Daddy, I can’t- I can’t-”

“Yes you can, kitten.”

“I can’t, it’s too much,” Eddie whines, and he realizes that he’s crying when his voice breaks on a sob, and Richie slows the movement of his fingers, gently rubbing down the side of Eddie’s thigh with his other hand.

“Is it really too much, baby?”

“I- I don’t know, I’m so dizzy.”

“Do you want to stop, Eddie?”

Eddie hesitates before shaking his head no, and Richie gives his thigh a gentle squeeze.

“Words, baby. I need you to tell me.”

“N-No, I don’t want to stop.”

“You can take a break if you need to, kitten.”

“Thank you,” Eddie breathes in relief, resting his head against Richie’s thigh as he tries to catch his breath.

Richie pulls his fingers out of Eddie’s hole to give slow, gentle licks instead, occasionally pulling back to kiss along the bruises on his inner thighs.

Eddie melts into the feeling, letting out little keens and whimpers in the back of his throat. He’s eventually able to get a handle on his breathing, and the dizzying fog over his brain dulls to something more manageable that doesn’t leave him feeling like he’s going to float away entirely.

“Doing okay, baby?”

“Yes.”

“Do you still want to keep going?”

“Yes, please.”

“You’re such a good boy, kitten. You make me so happy,” Richie tells him softly, and Eddie’s heart swells at the praise. “Why don’t you put your mouth back on Daddy’s cock, baby boy?”

So Eddie does, gently sucking Richie’s cock back into his mouth. But his throat sort of hurts, and he doesn’t have the energy left in his muscles to do what he was doing before, so he settles for licking and sucking at the head of Richie’s cock and using his hand to stroke the rest.

And Richie starts making these sounds that Eddie hasn’t heard him make before, and he gets excited. He starts suckling harder, and Richie’s hips twitch up into his hand, so Eddie wraps both of them around Richie’s shaft and strokes faster, tonguing gently at the slit of his cock.

“Baby, baby, fuck,” Richie moans brokenly, and Eddie whines at the sound of it, because he never thought he’d be able to make Richie sound like this. But he sounds well and truly gone, and Eddie wants to listen to it forever.

And then Richie must remember the task at hand, because he spits on Eddie’s hole again before gently pushing his fingers back inside. Eddie whimpers around Richie’s cock, and Richie’s hips stutter again, and Eddie strokes him faster, licking around the head over and over and over.

Richie uses his free hand to shift Eddie’s hips up enough that he can slide Eddie’s cock into his mouth, and Eddie moans around Richie’s cock at the feeling, letting his eyes flutter closed. And truthfully, he’s so much less focused on that than he is on the noises Richie is making in the back of his throat, and the way his legs won’t stop twitching, and how his hips keep stuttering up into Eddie’s hands. Knowing that he’s doing that- that he’s making Richie feel that way- has excitement rolling around inside of his belly.

But then Richie starts rubbing against his prostate, too, and Eddie feels a hot wave of dizzying pleasure flood through him, and he knows he’s going to come soon. But he can’t bring himself to focus on it, even when Richie starts properly thrusting his fingers inside of him. All he can think about is Richie. Richie’s twitching legs, and Richie’s moans, and Richie’s cock in his mouth. Richie Richie Richie.

He reaches one of his hands down to gently squeeze Richie’s sack, and Richie lets out a low groan around Eddie’s cock that vibrates through his whole body and settles in his brain. And he starts flicking his tongue underneath the head of Richie’s cock, and Richie uses his free hand to grab hard at Eddie’s thigh, letting out breathy, gasping moans that have Eddie’s heartbeat thrumming in his ears. So he keeps doing it, and Richie’s moans get louder where they’re muffled around Eddie’s cock in his mouth.

And he starts thrusting his fingers faster, and moving his mouth over Eddie’s cock faster as well, and Eddie can feel his own leg shaking where Richie has it in an almost painfully tight grip. At first, he isn’t sure why Richie starts rapidly tapping the side of his leg with his hand, but once he squeezes Eddie’s thigh so hard that it hurts, Eddie realizes that it’s because he’s going to come. The realization sends a shiver of excitement down his spine, and he starts keening in the back of his throat like he’s begging for it, because he is.

And he can’t help it if he moans a little too loudly when Richie’s legs go stiff, and the rhythm of his mouth on Eddie’s cock stutters, and he groans so lowly that Eddie can feel it resonate throughout his whole body. He can’t help his eyes rolling back into his head as Richie comes all over his tongue, flooding his mouth with it.

And he doesn’t stop stroking right away, and he doesn’t stop licking right away either, and that’s what he thinks causes Richie’s hips to jerk up one time _hard,_ hard enough that Eddie can’t stop them, and Richie’s cock slides into the back of his throat, pushing his cum down with it.

And that’s what has Eddie coming into Richie’s mouth as well, while his legs shake so badly that they start to cramp up. He pulls his mouth wetly off of Richie’s cock to moan through it, very aware of the mix of cum and drool that starts running down his chin and onto his neck as he does.

“Richie,” he sobs when Richie doesn’t stop and continues to push his fingers into Eddie’s body, and Eddie finally shifts his hips back to pull away once the feeling of Richie’s mouth on his cock starts to become painful.

Richie heaves in a few breaths before picking Eddie up to lie him back against the pillows, and then his head is back between Eddie’s legs, kissing and nipping at the hickeys that have now turned a livid shade of purple. He gently licks over the purpling bite mark as well before lifting Eddie’s legs and burying his face between them, and Eddie lets out a startled yelp, wrapping his fingers into Richie’s hair to pull him away.

But Richie doesn’t seem deterred at all by Eddie’s (aggressive) hair pulling; in fact, he starts moaning, and Eddie nearly starts to cry when Richie has his mouth at Eddie’s hole again, gently kissing over it before working his tongue inside once more.

“Richie, please,” he cries out, his hips shifting away on instinct. Richie just grabs onto him more firmly, and Eddie wants to scream. “Richie, it’s too much!”

He pulls away after another moment and Eddie sucks in a shaky breath in relief, until Richie starts rubbing over his hole with his fingers, and Eddie lets out another cry.

“Richie!”

“One day, I’m gonna spend a whole day seeing how many times I can make you come just with my tongue and my fingers,” he assures with a whisper, pulling his fingers away to grip at Eddie’s already bruised thighs and push them towards his chest. “Gonna make you come until you fucking cry,” he adds in a growl before biting harshly into the meat of Eddie’s ass, and Eddie lets out a yelp as Richie licks over it before finally moving up from between his legs.

Eddie gives a grateful sigh when Richie lies down next to him and pulls him into a brief kiss, petting his fingers through Eddie’s now disastrously messy hair. Eddie is almost alarmed by how desperately he clings to the contact, burying his face into Richie’s neck and nearly lying on top of him.

“How are you feeling, baby?”

“Cold,” Eddie whispers, and Richie brushes his fingers over the goosebumps covering Eddie’s back before reaching to pull his comforter on top of them. He hugs Eddie tight around the middle and rubs his skin to warm him up faster, which seems to be helping to relieve the wracking shivers coming from the core of him.

“Are you doing okay?”

Eddie nods into his neck, snuggling closer to steal the warmth coming from the center of him.

“Can you tell me that with your words?”

Eddie squeaks out a small “yes” before pulling the blankets tighter around himself. He feels sort of weird, in a way he doesn’t know how to describe. Sort of blank. Blank in the way his brain feels when he gets that dizzy fuzzy feeling, but without the part that feels good.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” Richie tells him, then starts gently pushing Eddie off of him and onto the mattress, and panic punches through Eddie so quickly that he starts crying.

“No!”

Richie stops immediately and wraps Eddie back up into his arms, which just makes him cry more. And he’s not even really sure why he’s crying in the first place.

“Please don’t leave,” he adds, and Richie’s arms tighten almost painfully around him as he wraps himself around Eddie’s still shivering body.

“I’m right here; I’m not leaving. But I need you to tell me if you’re really feeling okay or not, baby. I’m worried.”

“I… I feel so cold. And I guess… I guess lonely, even though that doesn’t make sense, but that’s how it feels.”

Richie is quiet for a moment before maneuvering them into a position that allows him to look into Eddie’s eyes, and that feels better. It feels better seeing Richie’s eyes.

“I have a heated blanket in the hall closet, do you want me to get it for you?”

Eddie tightens his arms around Richie’s middle, shaking his head no. Richie lets out a soft breath before pressing a kiss to Eddie’s forehead, and Eddie starts to get this sick, worried feeling in his stomach that he’s being needy, or annoying, or that Richie is mad at him for feeling this way.

“Are you mad at me?” he tries to ask calmly, but he’s still crying, so it doesn’t come out that way.

“Baby, no. I’m not mad at you at all, I would have no reason to be mad at you,” Richie assures, still looking into Eddie’s eyes with that concerned, solemn expression on his face. “In fact, I’m really, really proud of you, Eddie. You did such a good job, you know that? You were amazing, and you _are_ amazing, and it’s okay if you’re feeling a little down right now. But I want to take care of you, and I have to go get a few things so I can do that. So will you be okay if I get up for a few minutes?”

Eddie’s chest clenches painfully and he lets out another sob, shaking his head into Richie’s pillow. “I don’t want you to leave me.”

“Do you want to come with me, then? Would that make you feel better? I’m just gonna go get you a blanket and a snack and something to drink. You can come with me if you want to, baby,” Richie offers gently, and Eddie bites his lip before nodding.

“I’m gonna grab you some clothes, is that okay?”

Eddie nods again, allowing Richie to slide out of the bed and go to his dresser. Eddie watches as he just pulls on a pair of sweatpants before rummaging in their basket of clean laundry for a pair of Eddie’s socks and underwear, and one of his own hoodies. It’s the black one with “WMEB 91.9FM” on the front, which is the campus radio station. Eddie had jokingly threatened to steal it earlier, and his heart lifts in his chest as Richie comes over to the bed, pushing the comforter off of Eddie’s shoulders so he can pull it over his head.

“Good?”

“Mm-hmm,” Eddie hums after tucking his arms into the sleeves, rubbing the soft material over his arms.

Richie helps him pull on his briefs and his socks, and by help, he means that Richie mostly does it for him while Eddie maneuvers around to make it easier for him. It’s all he has the energy to do right now.

He allows Richie to pull him off of the bed until he’s standing on wobbly legs, and he wraps Richie’s comforter around him once he drapes it across Eddie’s shoulders.

“Come on,” he guides gently as he starts leading Eddie out into the hallway, and his legs sort of feel like cooked spaghetti, but he manages to slowly shuffle into the hall.

Richie takes them to the bathroom first so they can both pee, and Eddie almost sits down because his legs are so wobbly, but he decides that would be way too embarrassing and he has Richie hold his blanket while he manages not to fall over standing in front of the toilet.

They go to the kitchen after that, and Richie lifts Eddie up to sit on the counter with his head tucked under the blanket as he walks to the fridge.

“Do you want a big snack or a small one? Want me to make you a sandwich?” he asks as he’s pouring orange juice into 2 cups, and Eddie bites his lip in thought. He sort of wants to say he isn’t hungry, but he can’t tell if he is or not.

“I guess something small. My belly feels weird.”

Richie grabs some snacks from the cupboard and sticks them into his pockets before grabbing the two cups of juice and motioning for Eddie to follow him back to his room.

“Can you get down on your own?”

Eddie nods before hopping down from the counter, and once they get to Richie’s room, he hands the two cups in his hands to Eddie.

“Can you go put these down and then get comfy in bed? I’ll be right there, I’m just gonna grab that electric blanket for you.”

Eddie nods before shuffling into the room, placing the drinks on Richie’s bedside table before climbing back onto his bed, resting with his back against his headboard. Richie comes back a moment later with the blanket in his hand, and he plugs it into the wall before climbing onto the bed to wrap it around Eddie’s shoulders.

Eddie snuggles into it and waits for it to get hot as Richie settles in next to him, bringing his laptop onto the bed as well.

“What do you want to watch?”

“Um… I like nature documentaries.”

Richie puts on an episode of _Planet Earth_ that’s all about the ocean, and Eddie is sort of embarrassed by how much he relaxes once Richie turns his lamp off, and they’re watching the blue glow of the screen with David Attenborough’s voice explaining how sharks give birth in the background.

Richie reaches into his pocket and hands Eddie a package of peanut butter crackers and a Fruit by the Foot, and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Am _I_ nine?”

“You need sugar, so eat up, sport. And drink your juice.”

Eddie grumbles but starts eating anyway, taking sips of orange juice in between. He hands Richie his cup of juice too, and they sit like that for the whole episode, munching on their snacks and drinking their juice. By the time the show ends, Eddie feels much, much better. He doesn’t feel as shaky and cold as he did before, either. The electric blanket is actually starting to make him kind of sweaty, so he turns it off and folds it up before putting it on the ground.

“Are you feeling better, baby doll?” Richie asks once he’s done, moving his laptop over to lie himself down against his pillows.

“Yeah, much better. Thank you. I’m sorry, I don’t really- I don’t really know what happened.”

“It’s okay, it happens sometimes. Nothing to be sorry about. I’ll do a better job of anticipating your needs in the future, I promise,” Richie says seriously, and Eddie blinks at him.

“You didn’t- You didn’t do anything wrong, I just… I don’t know.”

“I know, but it’s my responsibility to take care of you. So I’ll make sure I’m more prepared to do that in the future before we do anything that might make you feel this way again.”

“I’m worried that this is gonna happen every time I want to have sex,” Eddie blurts out, and Richie pulls Eddie down to lie next to him, pressing a brief kiss to his mouth.

“It won’t. It’ll get easier the more you do it. You’re still learning things about yourself, it’s okay that you feel overwhelmed sometimes. I just want you to feel comfortable telling me how you feel and what you need. You don’t seem like you are.”

“I just… I just have a hard time, sometimes. Talking is hard.”

“So would you prefer if we figure out a way for you to tell me if things are getting too intense for you without you having to say it?”

Eddie nods, and Richie pulls him back to look at him again, and Eddie focuses up at the serious look on his face.

“So we’ll do this, then. If I’m worried that you’re having a hard time, I’ll do this,” Richie says, grabbing Eddie’s hand and squeezing it firmly, twice. “And if you’re okay, you do it back. And if you’re not, just don’t do anything. Does that make sense?”

Eddie nods, and Richie squeezes his hand two times, and he immediately does it back, and Richie smiles gently at him.

“Okay, good. We should definitely still have a safe word, just in case, but do you think this will work for you?”

Eddie nods again, because he really does. He hates having to speak up. Hates having to say “I’m uncomfortable.” So this is a good solution.

“What should our safe word be?” he asks softly, and Richie shrugs.

“Whatever you want. You should pick it.”

Eddie thinks for a moment before bursting out in laughter, and Richie prematurely rolls his eyes, but he’s got a soft smile on his face.

“Did you think of something?”

“Jerry Seinfeld.”

“Fucking seriously?”

“Is that not a good one?!”

“At that rate, let’s just make it ‘According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way that a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are-‘”

“Do you actually know that whole fucking thing?”

“Big time. In high school I bought one of those shirts that has the whole script written on it.”

“Fucking meme queen over here.”

“ _You’re_ the one who just said you want our fucking safe word to be ‘Jerry Seinfeld!’” Richie argues defensively, and Eddie can’t stop giggling as he presses his head against Richie’s chest. “Can we just shorten it to ‘Seinfeld?’ I feel as though that’s more succinct and still gets the message across.”

“Sure. But can we go to bed now?”

“As you wish.” Richie leans up to close his laptop and put it on the ground, leaving them in darkness.

“We should go brush our teeth.”

“I think you’ll be fine for one night, Eds.”

“I’m telling Wentworth.”

“Go ahead, there’s nothing he can do about it, now. I’ve been liberated from his oppressive totalitarian oral hygiene dictatorship.”

Eddie giggles again before shuffling closer, getting himself comfortable as he listens to the beating of Richie’s heart. The steady, rhythmic thudding against his ear begins to lure him into sleep, along with Richie’s fingers gently brushing up and down his arm. He’s nearly ready to nod off when Richie speaks again.

“So… I have to know,” he says softly, but Eddie can hear the smirk in his voice, and he rolls his eyes already.

“What?”

“Did you come because I came in your mouth?”

“Shut up, Richie,” he grumbles, burying his face into Richie’s chest in embarrassment. He can feel his cheeks getting hot, and he’s thankful that it’s dark in the room, because he’s sure he’s bright red.

“That’s just… that’s almost _unbearably_ hot. I mean, Jesus Christ. Which one of my wet dreams did you walk out of?”

“I’m going to sleep now.”

“I’m not totally unconvinced that you’re not, like, espionage sent to infiltrate my life by literally just the being the amalgamation of everything I’ve ever wanted. Are you gonna try to murder me soon? Is that how this ends?”

“Shut up. Go to bed.”

“I mean, I’m cool with that. I’ll even help you to cover it up; just sit on my face until I suffocate and then you can tell the cops it was an accident.”

“I literally hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

* * *

Bill knows that he’s sort of resolved to just let Stan and Mike settle this whole thing on their own, but it’s getting hard not to involve himself. Not that he wants to; he doesn’t. But Stan is such a mess about this entire situation that he’s starting to get worried, and it’s only gotten worse since Mike talked to Eddie and apologized. Stan has been a well of anxiety since then.

“I just don’t know what I’m supposed to say to him, Bill,” Stan’s tired voice sighs through his phone speaker, and Bill sighs with him.

“I think you should apologize, baby.”

“I know that, but I’m not going to promise him that I won’t get involved anymore. I’m not washing my hands of this situation. I refuse. I know something is going on.”

Bill can’t hold in another sigh, and leans down to rest his forehead on his desk that’s still covered in is half-finished homework. It’s not like he can focus anyway.

“Stan, he’s just having fun. It’s not like he’s going to elope with this guy. They’re just having fun.”

“Richie might be, but Eddie obviously has real feelings for him.”

“Maybe, but either way, isn’t that sort of his business to sort out?”

Stan goes quiet, and Bill worries that maybe he’s being callous. But he’s just tired.

“Are you going to psych today? Or are you still avoiding him?” he tries instead, and Stan lets out a quiet breath.

“I guess I’ll go.”

“You should. Eddie isn’t going to hate you, baby.”

“You didn’t hear the way he was talking, Bill. I’ve never heard him that mad before. He’s never spoken to me that way.”

Bill manages to hold in his sigh this time. “Love makes you do stupid things.”

“Don’t call it love, Bill, for fuck’s sake. I’m already on the verge of a breakdown.”

* * *

Shockingly, Richie is the one who has to convince Eddie to get up for class. Eddie spends most of the morning dragging his feet, and Richie eventually picks him up and carries him to the bathroom with him.

“Why do I have to get up now?”

“Because I have class at 8, and then I have work, and if I don’t get you up before I go, I’m worried that you won’t go to class this afternoon.”

“Why can’t we just skip again?”

“Who the fuck are you? Did you become a different person overnight?”

“Feels like it.”

Richie eventually ushers him into the shower and climbs in after him, and Eddie is still feeling particularly defiant, so instead of starting to bathe himself, he wraps his arms around Richie’s waist from behind as he tries to start shampooing his hair.

“Eddie, baby, I’m gonna be late for class,” he laughs, and Eddie rests his cheek against Richie’s back, hugging him even tighter.

“You were gonna be late anyway.”

“Well I wasn’t planning on needing to shower, but we’re both sort of dirty boys after last night.”

“Well… if you don’t go to class, we could just stay here and get dirtier,” Eddie suggests softly, and Richie sighs, turning around in Eddie’s grip to look down at him with nearly concerned eyes.

“What’s up, doll? You’re being very unlike yourself. Is something going on?”

“No, just want to spend time with you,” Eddie tells him truthfully, and Richie’s expression softens before he leans down to press a kiss to Eddie’s lips.

“I want to spend time with you too, baby. But I do have a job, and we both have classes to go to. Trust me, if I could spend the rest of my fucking life doing nothing but being with you all the time, I would.”

“That was gay.”

“You’re gay.”

“I’ll give you another blowjob,” Eddie offers, blinking up at Richie through his eyelashes, and Richie closes his eyes with a sigh.

“I… am so tempted to give in, but I seriously can’t miss work. I have a lot of shit to do today, babe. I’ve sort of been ignoring a lot of my responsibilities these past few days.”

“Who the fuck are _you?_ The Richie I know would never say no to getting his dick sucked.”

“I’m being a responsible boy! I figured that would make you happy!”

Eddie sighs in defeat and lets go of Richie so he can start bathing himself. “It does, I just wish we didn’t have responsibilities.”

“So do I, my love.”

Richie ends up leaving the apartment way too late, and Eddie feels guilty, because it’s definitely his fault. But Richie still gives him a big kiss before pulling on his shoes at the door, which makes him feel a little better about it.

“I’ll see you later tonight, okay? Why don’t you just hang out and get some homework done before class?” Richie suggests before pulling on his jacket, and Eddie huffs, grumbling under his breath.

“Yeah, I probably should. I have a psych test next week I should study for.”

“And set up your new phone! I might die of withdrawal if I can’t text you all day.”

“I will, I will. You gotta go, you’re already gonna be so late.”

“Goodbye, my dear. I’ll be counting down the moments until I can caress your skin once more.”

“Bye, dork. Drive safe.”

The first thing Eddie does once Richie leaves is set up his phone. And he knows he probably shouldn’t so that he can focus on his homework, but he’d be a liar if he said that he doesn’t already miss Richie and want to talk to him again. God, what is wrong with him? When did he become such a clingy sap?

_E: I set my phone up and tbh I’m mad at you all over again_

_This is a nicer phone than I ever planned to have in my lifetime_

_My old phone was like 3 generations behind._

_R: YAY!!!_

_I expect the first pic for my hoard today_

_Also I have to start thinking of what I’m gonna set as your ringtone for me this time_

_E: It’s 2019, nobody has personalized ringtones anymore you loser_

_R: Every single contact in my phone has a personal ring_

_E: What’s mine??_

_R: That song you showed me after we got tacos_

_E: Technicolour Beat???_

_R: Yeah_

_E: That’s so sugar-sweet and romantic that my teeth hurt_

_R: This might come as a surprise, but I have Big Gay Feelings for you, Eds_

_E: I have to go do homework, loverboy_

_R: I miss you already_

_E: I’ll text you when I’m done, you big sap_

_R: <3_

He texts Mike to let him know his phone is working now, and then spends the rest of his time before class catching up on homework. And fuck, he didn’t realize just how much catching up he has to do. His pre-calc homework takes him the longest to do, but he manages to get through it. And he’s even sort of confident that he got some of them right. And as soon as he’s done, he immediately texts Richie.

He decides to leave for class early so that he can stop by the dining hall and eat something, and he ends up arriving to his lecture hall much earlier than anticipated. He sits down and plugs in his headphones to listen to music, and his heart leaps when Richie finally texts him back.

_R: Did you finish all your homework?_

_E: I did! I even finished my math homework somehow_

_If you were serious, I’m gonna take you up on that offer for help because I’m legit scared that I’m gonna fail pre-calc_

_R: Of course I’ll help baby_

_E: Don’t take this the wrong way but I’m surprised you’re good at math_

_R: Ouchie_

_E: No I just mean because you’re an artist!!! Most artists I know aren’t crazy about STEM_

_R: I used to be an engineering major Judgmental Jerry_

_E: What??_

_R: Yeah_

_Biochem. Decided I hated it after 3 semesters and switched_

_E: Why?????_

_I mean no offense_

_R: It made me miserable and I never really wanted to do it in the first place_

_My dad was pretty upset when I switched but I just couldn’t do it anymore_

_It was literally sucking the life out of me_

_I had no time to focus on what I actually care about which is art so it made sense_

_E: Wow, yeah, I understand why you switched_

_I’m glad you’re doing something that makes you happy now_

_R: I’m happier right now than I’ve ever been before in my life tbh_

_Although most of that is because of you_

_E: Why are you being extra super sappy today? Very unlike you, Richard._

_R: I can’t help it_

_I literally cannot stop thinking about you_

_Like ever. You’re all I think about_

_E: You’re making me all blushy in class you dweeb_

_R: I thought your class started at 2?_

_E: It does, I got here early_

_No one else is even here yet_

_R: Shame that nobody else gets to see how cute you look when you’re all flustered_

_E: Shut up_

_R: I seriously have been having so much trouble at work because I keep getting distracted thinking about last night_

_You don’t know how much willpower it took to say no to you this morning_

_And I do expect you to deliver on that offer later btw_

_E: I didn’t say it was an offer you could redeem whenever you want to_

_The moment has passed, too bad for you_

_R: Act like you’re not excited to do it again_

_I’ve never had someone suck my cock like that before_

_You were so into it, it was the fucking hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life_

_E: Why do you decide to start conversations like this with me when I’m in public?_

_R: Because I like thinking about you getting all hot and bothered in front of other people_

_And them seeing how cute you look when you’re blushing and trying to keep it together_

_Because you’re mine and they can’t have you_

_It’s a real power trip_

_E: You’re licentious and incorrigible_

_And borderline fiendish_

_R: Borderline??_

_E: Fair point. You’re obsessive._

_R: Damn right._

_Want to know a secret?_

_E: I don’t know, is it something extremely inappropriate for you to share with me while you’re at work?_

_R: Yes_

_E: Tread lightly_

_R: I jerked off in the bathroom during my class this morning because I couldn’t stop thinking about what it felt like to come in your mouth_

_So I left class and busted one out to that video of you_

_Which honestly is a blessing because it made me come fast enough that I didn’t miss anything important_

_E: Do you have like any self-control?_

_R: It’s slipping away more and more as the days pass by_

_I mean fuck can you blame me? You’re so sexy that it’s almost infuriating_

_I don’t think I’m ever going to need porn again when I can look at this whenever I want to_

The next text that Richie sends him is a screenshot from said video. Richie’s hand is buried in Eddie’s hair while he’s looking up at the camera, with Richie’s cock in his mouth and tears in his eyes.

He yelps as soon as he receives it and frantically looks around, making sure that nobody else can possibly see it before typing out a reply.

_E: Are you trying to give me a fucking heart attack?!_

_R: No just a boner_

_E: Well mission fucking accomplished you asshole_

_Now fuck off_

_R: Why the fuck would you tell me that omfg_

_You’re just enabling me at this point_

_E: Grow some self-restraint_

_R: Nah, you like it that I want to tear you apart so badly_

_You like to pretend you’re not a dirty little boy but I have video evidence now that you’re an insatiable little cockslut_

_E: Maybe so but at least I have the willpower not to jerk off in a public bathroom_

_R: Well if you’re upset about that you’re gonna be pissed about this_

_E: About what?_

The next message Eddie receives is a picture of Richie, with his pants undone, stroking his cock inside of the radio station. Where he is is made obvious by the soundboard in front of him, and Eddie yelps when he sees it, unfortunately drawing the attention of a few of the students who have started entering the lecture hall for class.

_E: Have you actually lost your mind?!_

_You’re at work!_

_R: I’m alone_

_E: Not my point!_

_R: It’s your fault! Don’t be so hot!_

_E: I cannot believe you right now._

_R: I’ve thought about fucking you here a thousand times_

_I have a feeling you’re secretly a little exhibitionist_

_You’d get off on it_

_E: You seem pretty confident about that_

_R: I am. You’ll see_

_E: I have to go, class is starting_

_Don’t get cum on all that extremely expensive-looking equipment_

_R: No promises_

Eddie closes his eyes and rests his head in his palms, trying to calm himself down. Richie is such a fucking asshole.

He’s still actively willing away his unwelcome erection when Troy sits down in the seat next to him, and it startles Eddie so badly that he jumps in his seat.

“Whoa, hey, sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you,” he laughs, and then looks Eddie over curiously once he’s pulled his face out of his palms. “Feeling okay? You look flushed.”

“Just… feeling a bit feverish,” Eddie says through gritted teeth, knowing that his embarrassment at Troy pointing out how red he is certainly isn’t going to help at all.

“Make sure you’re taking time to care for yourself, Eddie,” he says earnestly, and something about his tone makes Eddie defensive.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I just mean that you seem… you seem different lately.”

“All good changes, I assure you.”

“Sure about that?” he asks in a grumble under his breath, and Eddie narrows his eyes at him, feeling defensive anger welling up in his chest.

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

Troy goes quiet for a moment, looking carefully over Eddie’s face. He’s clearly trying to build up the nerve to say something, and Eddie doesn’t particularly want to hear whatever it is. He says it anyway.

“Just… your boyfriend. He’s… he’s an interesting choice for you.”

“Interesting?”

Troy lets out a sigh, rubbing at his temple with his fingers. “He’s just… I’ve heard some pretty bad shit about him, Eddie. My roommate told me some things about him that don’t paint him in the best light.”

“Enlighten me,” Eddie presses, though he knows he shouldn’t, because he already feels like screaming.

“Like… like that he’s a womanizer. And a manizer, I guess. He sleeps around quite a bit, from what I’ve been told.”

“Having sex doesn’t make somebody a bad person.”

“Doesn’t it when they’re serially unfaithful?”

“That’s an issue we’ve already addressed, so if that’s your only-”

“It’s not, there’s more.”

Eddie doesn’t say to continue, but he also doesn’t say to stop. He just clenches his fists on top of his desk.

“Also heard that he’s… _creepy.”_

“Creepy?”

“Yeah. My roommate’s friend said he was super pushy when she turned him down and made her uncomfortable all night at a party once.”

“There are two halves to every story.”

Troy sighs, and he sounds frustrated, and Eddie wants to tell him to quit while he’s ahead, before he says something that makes Eddie punch him in the throat.

“I’m just trying to look out for you.”

“Well I didn’t ask you to, and I don’t need you to, because you don’t know anything about him. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Eddie sees Troy clench his teeth, and he knows his next words are going to be harsh.

“He’s also a fucking drug addict. That’s the kind of guy you want to go for, Eddie? Because I thought you were better than that,” Troy snaps at him, and Eddie feels his rage bubble over all at once.

“You don’t even fucking know anything about me, so mind your own fucking business. You think you know me because you’ve been creeping on me from afar for months? Which, by the way, sort of takes away any right you have to accuse other people of being fucking creepy. You’re just fucking jealous,” Eddie bites, and Troy looks shocked for a moment before he looks angry.

“Yeah, Eddie, I am jealous. I think it’s reasonable for me to be bummed that the guy I like is wasting his time on some drug addict loser who isn’t worth his fucking time. He’s just going to hurt you, you realize that, right? All this might seem fun and exciting now, but you’re gonna regret it when you realize the party boy with a heart of gold doesn’t really give a shit about you.”

“Wow, I really dodged a bullet with you, if your response to rejection is to act like you know everything about my fucking life and criticize all my choices. I’m sure you think you’re a really nice guy too, don’t you?”

“I’m not- it’s not because you rejected me, Eddie, I’m just-”

“Bullshit. Go fuck yourself. You want to talk about other people being creepy and pushy? Maybe you should do some fucking self-reflection,” Eddie bites, standing up from his desk and gathering his things before quickly moving to the other side of the room.

Troy is looking at him with a shocked expression on his face from across the room, and Eddie ignores him until their teacher walks up to her podium to begin her lecture. He’s absolutely seething, and it must be obvious, because other students keep glancing at him as if they’re worried he might explode at any moment. Which he might.

_E: Guess you were fucking right about Troy_

_R: Did he touch you?_

_I’ll fucking kill him_

_E: Nope, just ambushed me in class to tell me all of the reasons why you’re apparently a piece of shit and why he’s a better choice_

_R: What a fucking pussy_

_Let him know if he wants to chat with me directly I’d be happy to oblige_

_E: Seeing you punch one person was enough_

_R: Dudes should stop fucking with my boyfriend then_

_And realize that you’re fucking mine._

* * *

Stan is so nervous when he walks into psych that he considers skipping again, but he knows he can’t avoid Eddie forever. Not that he should, either, considering that the whole point of this is to patch things up between them. He just doesn’t know how to do that while also maintaining that he doesn’t like Richie, and that he isn’t going to like Richie.

He sees Eddie sitting by himself once he gets there, and he already looks pissed, which has Stan on edge immediately. Still, he carefully approaches where he’s seated, pulling a warm smile onto his face as he sits down in the seat next to Eddie.

Eddie cuts eyes at him so aggressively that Stan flinches, and his expression doesn’t go any softer when he sees that it’s Stan next to him. He nearly loses his nerve and decides not to say anything, but if he doesn’t try to fix things now, he’s worried they’ll only get much, much worse.

“Are you okay? You seem upset,” he decides on, and Eddie considers him carefully for a moment before speaking.

“Just pissed off.”

“At me?”

“Yes, but not at the moment.”

“Who are you pissed at?”

“Troy.”

Stan blinks at him in shock, and Eddie huffs out a sigh before explaining. “He came up to me in pre-calc and lectured me about Richie, because he’s fucking jealous. So he thought it was appropriate to ambush me in class to tell me all the reasons why he thinks Richie is a piece of shit. And, I’ll be honest Stan, I’m already at the end of my fuse, so I suggest you don’t do the same unless you want me to absolutely lose it.”

“I- I won’t. The opposite, actually. I wanted to apologize again, properly this time. I’m sorry that I involved myself in your relationship. I guess I just was blinded by my concern for you, and I realize that I wasn’t treating you like the grown man that you are. So I’m sorry about that,” Stan says, and Eddie looks at him skeptically.

“You mean that?”

“Yes,” Stan lies, “I do. It wasn’t my place, and it’s not my place. You’re an adult.’

Eddie pauses for a moment, looking Stan over with that careful expression again. “Well… well thank you. For apologizing.”

“Do you forgive me?”

“Yes. And I’m… I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you. I was just… really, really mad.”

“Thank you,” Stan sighs in relief, and Eddie seems to relax as well, which convinces Stan that they can stop having this conversation and hopefully resume some semblance of normalcy. He fucking hopes so, for fucks sake. “I forgive you, too.”

Eddie smiles softly at him, and Stan hopes that means Eddie will start hanging out with them again. Mostly, he just wants Eddie to start sleeping in his own room again, and stop going to Richie’s apartment every single night, like they fucking live together or something.

Because he really might lose it if Eddie keeps spending every spare fucking moment he has with Richie.

* * *

Bill well and truly has no idea what the fuck to do.

He keeps staring down at his phone and back at Mike where he’s seated on his bed, over and over, until he feels like the words on the screen are burned into his brain.

_T: Hey man, I don’t want to get involved in Eddie’s personal business or anything, but I figured you should know what’s going on. I’m worried about him, and I figure maybe you might be able to get through to him since he just lost it on me in pre-calc._

_B: What’s going on? Is he okay?_

_T: His boyfriend is a drug addict, dude. And not like that he just smokes too much weed_

_He’s a cokehead_

_I mean really I’ve heard he’ll do anything he can get his hands on_

_Which is everything, because he’s also a drug dealer._

_B: What the fuck Troy_

_Where is all of this coming from?_

_How do you know if any of that is true?_

_T: Because I’ve been to a party at OGR and he’s a sleazy creep_

_He spent all night feeling up everyone who would look in his direction and snorting coke in between trips out back to the garage at the house_

_Pretty sure that’s where he grows all of his weed_

_My roommate is a pledge and told me he basically employs other brothers as pushers. He’s not just selling a little bit of weed for pocket money, he has like a whole operation and shit._

_I’m not trying to be a nark or anything but Eddie went ballistic on me earlier and as pissed off as I am at him right now, I don’t want him to end up getting involved in some shit he shouldn’t be._

_I know he’s mad at Mike and Stan right now so I figured you were my best bet._

_B: You realize you just dropped a bomb on me right???_

_I’m not equipped to deal with this dude._

_T: I just figured you should know._

_Not that I think Eddie is going to listen_

_He seems like he’s already too far under whatever spell that guy has him under._

What the fuck is he supposed to do? Mike and Stan _just_ patched things up with Eddie; in fact, only minutes before he received that text from Troy, Stan had texted him to tell him that he and Eddie are walking back to the dorm together after class and that everything went well.

So is he just supposed to stomp all over that? Is it his turn to be on Eddie’s bad side? That’s the last thing he wants. When all of this was just Stan being sort of overbearing and pushy, Bill was perfectly comfortable taking a hands-off role in everything. But if this shit Troy is saying is true, then… then he can’t. He can’t just say nothing. Right?

He sits there and quietly panics until Stan and Eddie are walking through the door, and then he starts loudly panicking, with the forced, stiff “Hello!” that he yells at them as soon as they’re through the threshold.

Eddie pauses and looks at him curiously before walking inside to put his backpack down on his bed, and Stan looks confused before he turns around to close the door behind them.

“How was class?” he asks as casually as he can, and Eddie shrugs, kicking his shoes off to lie down on his bed.

“Shitty, as usual. Troy is an asshole, by the way.”

All the spit in Bill’s mouth dries up and he takes a moment to respond. “Why-Why do you say that?”

“Because he tweaked on me about Richie.”

“Right. Well. I’m sorry.”

“It’s whatever. I should have known. He basically admitted that he’s been stalking me for months,” Eddie grumbles as he pulls his phone out of his pocket, and Bill’s eyes narrow, but Mike speaks up before he gets the chance to.

“Is that a new phone?”

“Um… yeah. Richie got it for me for my birthday.”

“Jesus, where did he get the money for that?” Mike jokes, but Bill is getting dizzy, and the air in the room suddenly feels like syrup.

“He’s got a good job,” Eddie shrugs, but it looks forced, and Bill starts to wonder if Eddie already knows. But there’s no way. Because Eddie would run in the other direction. Right?

“Yeah, not like he’s a drug peddler or anything,” he blurts out awkwardly, and Eddie’s eyes go wide as he shoots Bill a look that has him wanting to hyperventilate. Stan seems to notice their exchange and glances between them before pulling on a smile that Bill knows is forced.

“That’s super generous of him,” he offers, and Eddie glances over at Stan and nods uncomfortably, peering at the door like he’s considering bolting.

“Y-Yeah, he just… he said he doesn’t want me to be unable to contact someone if I’m in trouble or something, so… so he helped me out. But I’m paying him back for part of it. Half of it. I’m paying him back for half,” Eddie rambles.

“Well I definitely agree with him there. You never know what could happen,” Mike agrees solemnly, and Eddie jolts up from his bed so fast that Bill flinches at the sudden movement.

“Yeah, he’s just… looking out for me.”

Eddie starts packing up more of his clothes, and tension settles in the air like a blanket. Bill, Stan, and Mike exchange tense glances to figure out who is going to ask first, and Bill wilts when Mike and Stan settle their eyes on him at the same time.

He takes a deep breath before gently asking, “So… are you going back to Richie’s tonight?”

The sigh that Eddie lets out isn’t promising, but it’s better than the yelling that Bill had been expecting.

“Um, yes. I just… like I said, I’m not mad anymore or anything, but I just… want space right now,” Eddie says stiffly, neatly folding a pair of jeans before adding them to the pile of clothes that he’s taking with him. “It’s all water under the bridge. I just want space.”

“Yeah, that’s… that’s understandable. Totally,” Bill assures him, and Eddie gives him a soft, thankful smile.

“I’m just glad we can move past this. I really do appreciate you guys looking out for me and- and being concerned about me. But I’m fine. I’m great, even. And I really hope that you guys can get to know Richie, because I would love if we could all be friends. He’s a really wonderful person, and- and now that things are okay between all of us, it would mean a lot to me.”

All of the wind is taken right out of Bill’s sails, and he officially decides he is not going to say anything about what Troy said. Not to Eddie, at least.

“Yeah, Eddie, of course. I told you I’d give a go at genuinely spending time trying to get to know him, and I meant that,” Stan assures, and Bill just nods in affirmation, because he’s afraid to speak.

“Thank you guys. I really do appreciate it.”

He busies himself with packing again, and Bill keeps glancing at his phone, like it will somehow give him the answer to how he should handle this situation. It doesn’t, because it’s a fucking bastard.

Once he finishes picking out his clothes, Eddie sits back down onto his bed before pressing his phone to his ear. Bill knows he’s calling Richie, but he still finds himself straining to hear, like he might magically be able to hear Richie’s voice through the phone speaker and across the room.

“Hey, Rich,” he says after a few moments, with this soft little smile on his face that Bill would think is cute if he weren’t completely unsure what the fuck to think of Richie right now. “I was just wondering if you’re done with everything? So… so can you come pick me up? Please? No, everything is fine. Everything is really good, actually. Yeah. Okay, see you.”

Bill almost says something on reaction because of the panic that rips through him, but he doesn’t.

“Is he coming now?” Stan asks, and Bill can tell that he’s trying to be casual, because he has his arms stiffly resting on his thighs where he’s sitting on Mike’s bed.

“Yeah, we’re gonna go get something to eat and go to his place.”

Bill spends the next 20 minutes in a wavy, nauseous state of anxiety, barely listening to the conversation that the other three men are having before there’s a knock on the door. He startles at the sound, because he was not expecting Richie to come inside, and his heart is beating so hard that he’s dizzy.

Eddie leaps up from his bed to answer the door, and as soon as it opens, Richie slides into the room and grabs Eddie around the waist before pulling his chin up for a kiss. And once again, under any other circumstance, Bill might find it cute, or even romantic.

He sees Stan stiffen on the bed as they pull away so that Richie can walk into the room, and once he does, he starts helping Eddie to pack his clothes into his empty overnight bag that Richie brought with him.

“How are you guys?” he asks casually, and Bill glances at Mike, who answers immediately.

“Great! School’s been kicking my ass, but what else is new.”

“Hear that. I have a project due soon for the winter gallery exhibit that I’m nowhere near finished with and it’s stressing me the fuck out,” Richie grumbles, and Eddie’s head snaps up.

“You didn’t tell me that,” he says softly, and Richie shrugs, shoving a small pile of Eddie’s socks into a pocket before zipping it up.

“I didn’t want you stressing about it too, baby.”

Eddie gets that little furrow in his brow that he does when he’s stressing, and Richie must notice it too, because he leans down to press a kiss to his forehead. “It’s fine, babe. I’ll get it done, no worries.”

They continue packing, and Richie glances over at Bill, and Bill freezes. “What about you, Big Bill? How’s life treating you?”

“U-Uh, good. Good. Classes are going well. I’m writing a short fiction piece right now that I’m hoping to submit to the school’s spring publication, actually.”

“That’s sick. I have some friends who work as editors for the Open Field, so if you want me to talk to some of them about it, let me know.”

“That’s- Thank you, that’s really nice of you,” Bill says genuinely, and Richie throws a smooth wink at him before focusing on carefully packing Eddie’s pile of underwear into the bag one by one.

“What about you, Stanley? How are you?”

“I’m well, thanks.”

“That’s it?”

“Pretty much. Not many complaints,” Stan says stiffly, and Eddie glances nervously at him before whispering something to Richie that Bill can’t hear.

“Glad to hear it.”

They finish packing in relative silence, and once they’re done, Eddie turns to face them with a tight smile on his face.

“Um, I’ll- I’ll see you guys on… Monday? Probably? I don’t know exactly, but I- I have a phone now, so… you can text me,” he says awkwardly, wiping his palms on his jeans.

“Sure thing, have fun!” Mike says happily, and Eddie smiles genuinely at him, and Bill tries to do the same.

They grab the last few things Eddie needs before he slings his backpack over his shoulders, and Richie opens the door before stepping out into the hallway.

“Bye, guys,” Eddie says softly, and the three of them respond in kind, and Eddie steps out into the hallway as well before Richie grabs his hand to fold their fingers together.

“Bye, boys; see ya round,” he says with a two fingers salute before closing the door behind them, and Bill shoots up out of his chair as soon as the door closes behind them.

Both of his boyfriends look at him curiously, and he doesn’t realize that he’s made the decision to tell them until the words are coming from his mouth in a harsh whisper.

“Richie is a drug dealer.”

Stan’s eyes go wide and he gasps, and Bill is thinking he might regret this, but he’s in it now, so he’s not going back.

“What?” Mike asks loudly, and Bill cracks the door open nervously to make sure that Richie and Eddie are gone before he whips back around to face his boyfriends with what he’s sure is a panic-stricken expression.

“Troy told me that Richie is a coke addict, and that he sells weed out of the garage at OGR. He said he’s a sleaze and that he does a lot of, like, hard drugs and that he’s a creep. I don’t- I don’t know what he meant by ‘creep,’ exactly, but he said that he was at a party at OGR and Richie was just getting high and groping people all night, and that he has, like, members of the frat selling drugs for him, too,” he words vomits, and Stan’s eyes go wider, and Mike starts sputtering.

“What the hell are you talking about? Troy told you that? How do you know he’s not just saying that because-”

“Eddie told me that they got into a fight in pre-calc,” Stan interrupts quietly, and Mike snaps his mouth shut.

“Troy said Eddie flipped out and wouldn’t listen to him. And I just- I- I don’t know what to do, I’m freaking out. I don’t want to try talking to Eddie about it, he’s just going to flip out,” Bill tells them anxiously, and Stan is still being suspiciously statuesque.

“Do you think… do you think Eddie knows?” he asks softly, and Bill grabs his hair in panic, because he cannot fucking handle this.

“I don’t know, I don’t- I don’t think so, right? I mean, he can’t. There’s no way. If he knew- if he knows Richie is selling drugs and that he’s- you know, I mean, if Richie really has a drug problem, there’s no way he would- there’s no way, right?”

“I mean… it’s just weed, though, right? It’s not like he’s selling heroin,” Mike says gently, and Stan blinks slowly before taking a deep breath through his nose.

“As far as Troy knows. And even then, you can still get a felony conviction even though it’s legal, depending on how much you’re selling,” he says slowly, and Bill wishes he could read whatever Stan is feeling, because his calmness has him on edge. “And that doesn’t mean he isn’t _doing_ heroin. I mean, look at him,” he bites, and his tone causes a weird relief to pass through him, because he’s glad he’s not the only one who’s worried about this information.

“That’s not fair, Stan,” Mike says, and Bill cannot handle it if they start fighting about this. He can’t.

“Guys, I- I’m freaking out,” Bill repeats, and Mike stands up to hug him around the waist, and that feels a little better.

“It’s okay, babe. We should just… talk to Eddie about it. What else can we do?”

“We could call the police,” Stan says coolly, and all of Bill’s relief leaves him.

“No! We can’t call the cops on Eddie’s boyfriend, Stan. I don’t even- I can’t prove that any of this is even true. It’s all hearsay!”

“And Eddie would never forgive you for that,” Mike says firmly, and Stan gives them a calculated glance.

“Then what do you think we should do, Mike?”

Mike pauses, rubbing anxiously at his arm. “I think- I think we should just talk to him about it. I mean that. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Eddie freaking out and writing us off altogether for getting involved again, and then if it’s true, we’re just… leaving Eddie alone with him indefinitely.”

“Then what do you think we should do, Stan? We can’t call the police.”

Stan pauses, and Bill feels nearly suffocated by the silence before he speaks again. “We could find out if it’s true. On our own.”

“How?”

“I mean, if Troy knows, other people must know, too. We could start there and figure out what we can, and if it’s enough, we can go to the police with it.”

“I don’t want to call the cops,” Bill admits, and Mike nods in agreement. “Even if he’s selling weed that doesn’t mean- he isn’t automatically a bad person because of that.”

“That’s true, but it puts Eddie in danger. And I’ll be honest, if the two of you want to let this go, that’s your prerogative. But I’m not going to,” Stan says firmly, and the look in his eyes has Bill feeling panicky all over again. “I won’t let it go.”

“So, what then? You’re gonna go on a vigilante mission to figure out if Richie’s actually dealing drugs?”

“Yeah,” Stan replies. “If I have to.”

* * *

“Thank you for being civil when you came to get me,” Eddie tells Richie softly once they’re back in his bedroom, and Richie chuckles softly before climbing onto his bed to wrap Eddie into a hug.

“I mean, your subtle little threat to kill me if I did something stupid was motivation enough not to be rude.”

“I- sorry, I just… I was worried.”

“Ye of little faith.”

“It’s not that I didn’t have faith in you! I just was worried that things would be weird.”

“They were weird.”

“Yeah, but it was manageable.”

Richie pets a comforting hand through his hair and Eddie leans into it, resting his head against Richie’s chest to feel his heartbeat.

“Did you tell them about Troy?”

Eddie sighs, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, I told Stan. I’m so sorry I didn’t listen to you when you told me I shouldn’t talk to him still, I just really thought… I don’t know. I thought he cared about me as a friend. I just didn’t think he would do that.”

“Well, to be fair, if you were with some other guy and I had to watch you walk around covered in hickeys that he left on you, I’d eventually flip too. But I’d go after the guy, not you. Which is why he’s a pussy.”

“The absolute last thing I want is for you and Troy to get into a fight.”

“No promises if I happen to see him around campus.”

“Rich.”

“He has it coming. He’s lucky I didn’t haul off on him when I saw the goo-goo eyes he was making at you when I picked you up at the café,” Richie says in a growl, and Eddie feels a wave of excitement well up in him, which makes him feel ashamed.

“God, I can’t imagine what you would have done if I’d actually gone to his dorm, then.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Eddie swallows, regretting that he said that. Why did he say that? “He asked me to come over, while I was waiting for you. He said I could hang out in his dorm while I waited.”

“And you said yes?”

“I- I- yeah, he’s been in my dorm, so I figured it was okay,” Eddie says softly, waiting for Richie to yell.

“So you thought going _alone_ to some dude’s dorm room who is clearly into you was a good idea?”

“He’s also my friend, Richie. Or, was my friend, I guess.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“I wouldn’t have- it’s not like I would have done anything, you know that.”

“Doesn’t mean he wouldn’t do anything.”

“If he came onto me, I would have turned him down, Richie.”

“Once again, that doesn’t mean anything. If a guy really wants to get in your pants, do you think saying ‘no’ is gonna stop him? You’re tiny, Eds. You’re not gonna fight off a 190 pound dude who was probably a linebacker in high school.”

Eddie goes cold, and he tucks himself further into Richie’s arms to chase the heat of his body. “I don’t- he wouldn’t have done that.”

“You can’t be too sure, Eds. Lots of perfectly charming, seemingly innocent guys do shit like that all the time.”

Eddie really hates this conversation, so he decides to change the subject. “I… um, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about. Something important.”

“Breaking up with me already?” Richie jokes, but there’s a touch of hysteria behind it, and Eddie quickly shakes his head no.

“No! No, the opposite.”

“Awe, you’re proposing? Beat me to it.”

“I did say it was serious, asshole.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry. I just missed you and I’m full of nervous energy.”

Eddie can’t help cracking a smile at that, and he leans back to look up at Richie with a fond smile. “I missed you too. I thought I was being clingy.”

“You are clingy, but I adore it. It’s precious. And, I mean, it’s not like I haven’t also been clingy.”

Eddie smiles wider at that before this weird, invasive feeling punches through him that makes him want to cry, and he’s blurting out what he wanted to say, much less tactfully than he had planned. “Richie, I- do you like me? I mean, do you want to be with me for a while? This isn’t just a casual thing for you, right? Because- Because I’m serious about you.”

Richie’s expression goes very serious, and Eddie’s heart rate picks up double time. “I am very, very serious about you. I haven’t been joking this whole time, I mean it when I’ve said that you’re perfect for me in every way. You’re- you mean everything to me, Eddie. I’ve been worried about seeming like I’m moving too fast or something, and I’m sorry if it’s made it seem like I’m not serious about you. I am very, very, _very_ serious about you. You’re- You’re my baby.”

Eddie feels tears stinging his eyes, and he realizes that he’s been holding his breath when he gasps out his next words: “I want to have sex, Richie.”

Richie chuckles before kissing the top of his head, ruffling his hair with his hand afterwards. “I know I have a bad memory, babe, but we already had this conversation if I’m not mistaken.”

“No I mean- I mean now. I want to today. Tonight. I want to now.”

Richie pauses, looking over Eddie’s face carefully, like he’s trying to find an answer to a question he hasn’t asked him yet.

“Why? What changed your mind?”

“I just realized today… after everything with Troy and all of that, that the reason I wanted to wait was because I thought I should, not because I actually want to. I don’t, I haven’t this whole time. Everyone has been telling me to be careful and take things slow and I- I don’t want to. Nothing is going to change between now and six days from now when we get our test results back. I just want- I just want to be _yours._ I don’t want to wait.”

Eddie holds his breath again after he’s finished speaking, and he can’t bring himself to look up at Richie’s eyes, because he’s so nervous he could scream. It takes him off-guard when Richie reaches for his hair to pull his head back, and when he does, the look in his eyes is so dark and so intense that Eddie’s breath catches in his throat.

He doesn’t say anything before bringing his other hand to Eddie’s face and cupping his chin, gently rubbing over the skin of his cheek before using his thumb to pull Eddie’s lips apart. Eddie lets out a moan before their lips even touch, and when Richie slides his tongue into Eddie’s mouth, he’s nearly gasping, gripping tightly at Richie’s biceps in an attempt to ground himself, because he already feels like he’s losing it. And the way Richie is holding his head so firmly while he pushes his tongue into Eddie’s mouth and fills up all of his senses definitely isn’t helping him to get a handle on himself.

Eddie is gasping in breaths when Richie pulls away, and he’s looking at Eddie with a mix of awe and something else, something desirous, and it’s making Eddie feel hot underneath his clothes already.

“You’re already mine, baby doll.”

Eddie’s eyes flutter closed and he has to remind himself to calm down, because he doesn’t want to have a meltdown midway through like last night. He takes a few breaths before opening his eyes back up to see Richie’s eyes all over him, like he’s trying to memorize what Eddie looks like.

“Then make me feel like it.”

Eddie doesn’t have time to take in another breath before Richie is kissing him again and lying him back against his pillows, and Eddie suddenly feels like there’s too much blood in his body.

He’s really doing this. Fuck, he’s really doing this. He’s so nervous that his head hurts, but the nerve came to him all of a sudden during psych, and he decided that he doesn’t actually want to wait. He just feels like he should, and fuck feeling like he should. He’s going to do what he wants right now.

He was also worried that the nerve would leave him, and that once a week has gone by for them to get their test results back, he’ll have lost this wave of… not confidence, but self-assurance that he has right now. Because this is the least terrified he’s felt to have sex since everything happened. Right now, with Richie tugging his pants down his legs and kissing all over his middle, sending ticklish little flutters of pleasure all over his body.

Once Richie has moved back up to pull his own shirt over his head, Eddie takes a moment to breathe, and he grabs for Richie’s hand to say the other thing he needs to say before he loses the nerve. And before they get too far gone.

“Richie?”

“Yes, kitten?” he asks gently, leaning down to press kisses into Eddie’s throat, which leave him without his breath all over again.

“I- I just- can we be gentle? Please? Can we- can we go slow?” he eventually manages to ask softly, and Richie pulls back to look at him with adoring, gentle eyes that send relief waving through Eddie once more.

“Of course, baby. Just relax, okay? I’ll take care of you, I promise,” Richie assures him in a whisper before pressing a gentle kiss to his mouth, and Eddie does just that, and relaxes back into the pillows.

Richie finishes undressing them both before leaning down to press more kisses across Eddie’s chest and his stomach, and Eddie giggles at the sensation, reaching a hand down to tangle into Richie’s hair.

“Why are you so obsessed with my belly?”

“Because it’s so cute and your skin is so soft here. And I’m obsessed with every part of your body,” Richie replies, rubbing his face against the fleshy part of Eddie’s belly, causing him to gasp at the sensation.

Richie gives him a few more kisses there before moving lower, dipping his head down between Eddie’s legs and spreading his thighs open.

Richie presses sweet, apologetic kisses against the bruises and bites there, and Eddie tenses up at first, expecting him to leave more. But once he realizes Richie is just gently kissing him there, he relaxes into it, spreading his legs further so Richie can fit more comfortably between them.

“You look so pretty covered in bruises,” he whispers, and Eddie gasps, tightening his grip in Richie’s hair.

“Richie, you said you would be gentle.”

“I know, I know. Does that mean I’m not allowed to appreciate the visual?” he asks, mouthing over the bite mark on Eddie’s thighs with his lips, causing Eddie to squirm underneath him.

“N-No.”

“I won’t hurt you, baby. Not tonight, at least.”

“R-Richie.”

“Okay, okay; sorry,” Richie apologizes with a smile before moving back up to kiss Eddie softly on the lips, licking gently into his mouth and stealing the breath from his lungs. Eddie is already panting into his mouth, and when Richie slides his hand down between their bodies to gently squeeze Eddie’s cock, he whimpers against his tongue, causing Richie to groan softly against his lips.

He wraps his hand around Eddie and starts stroking him slowly, rubbing his thumb over the tip of his cock which is already wet with precum. Eddie moans in the back of his throat, and Richie licks further into his mouth, until all Eddie can taste is Richie. He’s lightheaded already, but it’s a gentle sort of overwhelm that has him pleasantly dizzy inside of his head.

Richie gives a few gentle squeezes to the head of Eddie’s cock before letting go to trail his fingers lower, gently pressing two of them against his perineum, causing Eddie to break their kiss to let out a small cry. He can’t stop shifting his legs, like he’s anxious. Which he guesses he is, but it feels more like excitement, and it’s dancing all over his body.

“You’re so sensitive, kitten,” Richie praises softly, licking Eddie’s spit from his lips as he studies his face, watching for another reaction as he slides his fingers lower once more to rub gently over Eddie’s hole.

Eddie twitches at the feeling and gasps before letting out a few ragged breaths, pushing his hips down against Richie’s fingers as they ghost over his hole, without enough pressure to begin pushing inside.

“Feels- Feels good,” Eddie assures in a gasp, and Richie smiles and presses another kiss to his lips before leaning up to reach into the drawer of his bedside table to pull out a bottle of lube and a condom.

Eddie feels his heart rate pick up again looking at them, and he starts getting nervous again. Looking at the condom especially makes this all feel particularly _real,_ and he feels himself stiffen, trying to will away the slight, hysterical panic that he feels prickling at his brain.

Richie must notice, because he leans back down to drape his body over Eddie’s, using both arms to wrap him up in a hug so tight that it steals his breath.

“I’ll be gentle, baby, I promise. I’ll go slow,” he whispers into Eddie’s ear, and Eddie wraps his arms around Richie’s waist, burying his face into his neck when he goes to press a kiss to Eddie’s forehead.

“I know, I trust you. I’m just- just nervous.’

“It’s normal to be nervous your first time,” Richie assures him quietly, and Eddie feels a weird lift in his chest that he isn’t expecting at those words. _Your first time._ Just like none of it ever happened.

“Thank you, Richie,” he says before he can stop himself, and Richie pulls back to smile at him fondly, pressing a kiss to his freckled cheek.

“I haven’t even done anything yet, sweetheart.’

“I just mean in general. Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” Richie dismisses before kissing his lips again, and Eddie relaxes in his arms again as he rubs his fingers up and down Eddie’s sides in a comforting gesture that makes Eddie feel like putty in between his hands.

He lifts up slightly to bring his hand back down between Eddie’s legs, and Eddie feels his toes curl when Richie grabs both of their cocks in his hand, pressing them together and squeezing. Richie breaks the kiss this time to moan, softly cussing under his breath as he squeezes particularly hard, causing Eddie to let out another soft little cry.

Richie looks down at him reverently at the sound of it and kisses him once more before leaning back up to grab the lube, and Eddie closes his eyes, listening closely as Richie pops the cap open.

He feels the nerves bubbling up in him again, but when Richie places a gentle hand on his thigh, he still spreads his legs wider. He can’t open his eyes, though; not yet. Not until Richie uses one hand to gently grab underneath Eddie’s knee and push it towards his chest, and his other hand starts pressing wet fingers against Eddie’s hole.

Eddie’s eyes flutter open to see Richie staring down at him, enraptured. The intensity of his gaze makes Eddie uncomfortable for a moment before Richie starts firmly brushing his lube-wet fingers against him over and over, and he can’t help the little gasps escaping his lips with each pass.

“Are you ready, baby?”

“Y-Yeah.”

Richie slowly pushes two of his fingers inside, and he’s done this before (obviously), but it feels so much smoother with the lube instead of his spit. They go in more easily as well, and a moan is punched out of Eddie’s chest when Richie has them buried in to the knuckle, shallowly thrusting in and out as Eddie gasps and squirms underneath him.

“Good?”

“Yes, yes. So good.”

“You’re a dream, kitten.”

“You’re a sap.”

“I can’t help it, I’ve never felt this way about somebody before,” he admits softly, and Eddie gasps brokenly as Richie pushes his fingers up to gently press against his prostate.

So far this is all familiar, but Eddie is still proud of himself for the lack of panic he feels at the prospect of what’s happening. He was really, truly worried he wouldn’t be able to do this, but he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted something more in his life than he wants this right now.

Richie starts thrusting his fingers faster, pushing up against Eddie’s prostate with each one, and Eddie is letting out these broken little cries that he might be embarrassed by if he weren’t preoccupied with the hot, tingly feeling already welling up in his belly.

Richie pulls his fingers out briefly before pushing in another, and Eddie lets out a whiny moan in the back of his throat, grabbing onto Richie’s arm as he works all three of them inside.

“Richie, feels so good,” he assures in a breath, and Richie leans down to press another kiss to Eddie’s lips before breathing heavily into his ear, sending shivers running all over his skin.

“I can’t wait to be inside of you, baby. I’ve been thinking about it since the moment I saw you. About having you underneath me like this,” he breathes, and he starts spreading his fingers as he’s thrusting them, causing Eddie’s muscles to give out underneath him.

“I- I have too, I touched myself and thought about you the day after you first talked to me,” Eddie admits in a gasp, and Richie thrusts his fingers up _hard,_ ripping a cry from Eddie’s lips.

“Fuck, baby. Baby, that’s so sexy, you’re so fucking perfect. Jesus Christ,” Richie growls, burying his fingers as deep inside of Eddie as he can before curling them up into his prostate, rubbing harshly over it with so much pressure that Eddie’s cock starts leaking where it’s pressed against his stomach.

“Richie please, please; I just want you to be inside of me, please. I don’t want to wait anymore,” Eddie cries shakily as Richie fucks his fingers into him, looking down into Eddie’s eyes with his eyes so dilated that they look almost black.

He keeps going until Eddie lets out another broken “Richie,” at which he pulls away all at once, scrambling with his lube-wet fingers to get the condom open.

Eddie watches him and a stone settles in his belly that he doesn’t quite know the origin of, not until he’s watching Richie tear the condom packet open with his teeth as he’s stroking his cock with his other hand, rubbing over the tip that’s so red it looks nearly purple between his fingers.

He’s just started rolling the condom on when Eddie reaches out to stop him halfway, softly saying, “Wait, Rich.”

The anguished look on his face when his head snaps up to look at Eddie makes Eddie gasp, and he feels horrible, because Richie thinks he’s going to tell him to stop.

Quite the opposite, actually, but saying it out loud feels wrong in a way that Eddie isn’t prepared for. Even thinking it makes Eddie realize that it’s not a healthy way to feel, but he can’t help it.

Because Richie said it would be like wiping it away, like nothing ever happened in the first place. And Eddie isn’t sure why, but the idea of Richie wearing a condom doesn’t feel the same. It doesn’t feel like the ritual will be complete unless Richie comes inside of him, unless he feels Richie’s cum wetting his insides and sliding down his legs. God, that’s sick. He knows that’s sick.

“I don’t- I don’t want you to wear a condom,” he blurts, and Richie’s face goes blank, like he hasn’t quite processed what Eddie has said.

“What?”

“I just- I want to feel close to you,” Eddie explains, though that’s a woeful understatement. “And- And you were right; I mean, if either of us has anything, we probably already gave it to each other. And I just want- I just want to feel you-”

Richie rips the condom off and tosses it away before crowding between Eddie’s legs all in one movement, and Eddie lets out a startled yelp as Richie pushes him back against the pillows, gripping the hair at the back of his head as he fucks into Eddie’s mouth with his tongue.

“You’re gonna kill me, you know that? You’re going to be the fucking death of me,” Richie breathes once he pulls away, and Eddie squirms around underneath him before reaching down to grab Richie’s cock, rubbing it between his cheeks himself.

“Please, Richie, please. Please,” Eddie begs, and he isn’t sure why, but he feels tears starting to wet his eyes. Richie must see them as well, because he stares at them in rapture before reaching for the lube to sloppily wet his cock, making a mess of Eddie’s belly in the process and getting lube all over the insides of his legs.

Eddie doesn’t care, though. He doesn’t think he could care about anything else right now if he tried.

He’s already shifting his hips down once he feels Richie pressing the wet tip of his cock to his hole, but Richie still looks down into his eyes with a careful expression.

“Ready?”

“Yes, please, please just-”

Eddie is cut off by his own moan as it’s pulled from his gut, crawling up out of his throat in a way that he’d be sure is unflattering if it didn’t have Richie moaning, too.

Or maybe that’s just because the gradual pressing of his cock inside of Eddie’s body feels as good for him as it does for Eddie, which he has a hard time believing, because he feels like he’s in heaven. He feels high off of it already, going limp underneath Richie as he lifts his knee to his chest once more before sliding the rest of the way in with one smooth thrust, punching all of the air out of Eddie’s lungs.

“Richie,” he cries, but it comes out as a broken slur of syllables as he tries to focus on breathing with Richie’s cock so deep inside of him. He feels as though he can feel it everywhere, in every cell of his body, and he barely registers the slight pain from the size of him over how _right_ this feels, and how upset he is with himself that he let that stupid fucking party stop him from doing this weeks ago.

Richie grinds his hips up and pushes in even deeper, until his balls are pressed up against Eddie’s ass, and Eddie nearly screams at the sensation.

“Eddie, baby, you feel so fucking good. So fucking tight around me, fuck,” Richie whispers harshly, and Eddie whimpers at the sound of it, punctuating it with a moan when Richie pulls his hips back very slightly before pushing them hard against Eddie’s ass once more.

“Your cock is so big,” Eddie praises in turn, and Richie’s hips stutter again, earning another broken off moan from Eddie’s lips.

“I can feel how deep I am, baby. You’re all full up, huh?”

“So full; it’s so deep, I can feel it in my belly,” Eddie tells him, and that seems to be what breaks Richie’s resolve, because he pulls his hips back fully before thrusting inside, then does it again, his mouth dropping open in pleasure as he struggles to keep his eyes open to watch Eddie coming apart underneath him.

“I’m sorry, baby, I can’t- I can’t-”

“It’s okay, just fuck me, please. Make me feel like yours,” Eddie repeats, and Richie cusses harshly under his breath before pressing a quick, sloppy kiss to Eddie’s lips as he brings Eddie’s other knee to his chest. He pulls back and holds Eddie’s legs wide with his hands underneath each of his knees, and he seems like he’s maybe trying to take a moment to appreciate the view, but he starts thrusting his hips again before he seems to get the chance to.

“You are mine, baby; all of you, every fucking part of you belongs to me,” he growls, picking up the pace of his thrusts as he’s speaking until his hips are slapping against Eddie’s ass, which mixes with the wet sliding of where they’re joined to create a vulgar symphony in the air around them.

“I’m yours, I’m yours,” Eddie finds himself mumbling, unable to keep his moans behind his lips.

He isn’t sure if Richie is hitting his spot, or if his dick is just so big that it’s hitting all of his spots at once, but either way, he feels like he’s breaking inside. Something in him is unraveling, and it’s scary, but he doesn’t want it to stop.

He knows he cries out much too loudly when Richie shifts his hips down to change his angle, but Richie doesn’t quiet him, so he doesn’t stress too much about it. Not that he could right now.

Richie slows his pace down to give long, deep strokes, nearly pulling all the way out before pushing back in each time, and Eddie can feel the head of Richie’s cock drag against his prostate with each thrust, and he screams.

Richie chuckles above him before picking his pace back up, and Eddie can’t keep his mouth closed at this point. He knows he’s drooling on himself, truthfully an artistic parallel to where his cock is drooling all over his stomach, but he can’t be fucked to care. He can barely think straight.

“Does that feel good, baby? Do you like that?”

“I like it, Richie, I like it, like it, like it,” Eddie starts rambling, and Richie cusses above him, pressing Eddie’s knees up farther to his chest. “Want to feel like this all the time, Richie.”

“You can, baby, I’ll fuck you like this whenever you want; whenever you want my cock inside of you, you can have it,” Richie assures him, and Eddie can’t respond with much more than a series of broken cries.

He knows that he’s getting close, and as much as he sort of never wants this to end, the primal part of his brain is telling him to come, and he wants it so badly. So he reaches his hand down between his legs to touch himself, but Richie stops him with a firm command and a pause in his thrusting.

“Baby, don’t.”

So he doesn’t, and lets his arms fall to his sides instead, but he’s whining in the back of his throat as he blinks up at Richie through wet eyes.

“Why not?”

“Because I want you to see how good it feels to come just on my cock, kitten,” he whispers before he starts moving his hips again, and Eddie wants to argue, but he can’t. So he doesn’t, and he squeezes his eyes closed and lets Richie keep fucking into him.

He’s not even sure that anything is going to come out of him when he does come, considering that his cock has been leaking so badly this entire time that it looks as if he already finished all over himself. But he knows he’s going to, he can feel it deep in his pelvis as Richie moves in and out of his body. He’s felt this feeling before, and his body tries to conjure touch memory at the sensation, but Eddie wills it away by blinking his eyes open once more, searching for a moment before he locks eyes with Richie again.

He’s staring down at Eddie with such intensity that Eddie lets out a gasp at the sight of it, and he looks so focused, like he’s trying so hard to control himself. And that makes Eddie gasp as well, because he can’t help thinking about all the other times they’ll get to do this in the future, when Richie might not be trying so hard to control himself.

Eddie comes with another near-scream on his lips, staring up into Richie’s eyes as his cock manages to pump out more cum to join the mess that’s already all over his belly. Richie breaks eye contact to watch as his cock jumps and makes a mess all over him.

“Eddie, God, you’re so fucking beautiful, baby; you’re such a good boy,” Richie praises, and Eddie is just coming down from his orgasm as Richie drags him further underneath himself, before letting go of Eddie’s knees to grip his waist instead.

He starts giving quick, hard thrusts against Eddie’s ass, and Eddie can’t stop the whining little cries that escape him at the overstimulation as Richie chases his orgasm. But he wants Richie to come so badly, he wants it so bad that the thought is making him dizzy.

“I want you to come in me, Richie, please. I want it so bad, want you to fill me up with it. I want to still be wet tomorrow,” he rambles, and he’s not even sure where most of it comes from, but it works. Because Richie lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a moan and a yell, slamming his hips into Eddie’s so hard that it almost hurts. And then he’s coming, and Eddie is gasping underneath him, looking up at Richie’s face as he squeezes his eyes shut and ruts against him, pushing his cum so deep inside of Eddie’s body that the thought of it alone is almost enough to make him want to come again himself.

Richie doesn’t pull out right away when he’s done, and he blinks his eyes open to look back down at Eddie, and the affectionate wonderment on his face almost seems out of place in a sexual setting. But it makes Eddie beam up at him despite how tired he feels, and Richie gently presses his chest against Eddie’s before bringing their lips together in a soft kiss that gives Eddie goosebumps on his chest.

Once his cock has gone soft again, Richie pulls out and lies down next to him, pulling Eddie’s head into his chest. Eddie is so weak and so limp that he allows himself to be pulled without resistance, and once he’s resting his head against Richie’s chest, he realizes how exhausted he feels.

“How are you feeling, baby doll?”

“Amazing,” Eddie answers truthfully, and Richie laughs above him before hugging him tighter to his chest.

“Me too.”

And Eddie knows that they should probably talk more about all of this and what it means, and they should definitely get up and clean themselves up, because they’re filthy. But Richie’s rare silence is comforting right now, and the exhaustion he feels in his bones overrides the uncomfortable, sticky feeling of cum and lube smeared in various places all over his body.

So he allows himself the luxury of closing his eyes, and as he does, Richie reaches his hand up to pet through Eddie’s hair. And he’s already starting to drift behind his eyelids, feeling that weightless, floating feeling in his brain that he gets before sleep. He’s about to give in and float off when Richie speaks again, his voice acting as an anchor keeping him tied to the ground.

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?”

He pauses, and Eddie is about to muster up the energy to ask him what he was going to say when he finally speaks again.

“I’m in love with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The little 'get better' kiss moment, credit for that goes to my homegirl alicefelldowntheh0le on tumblr, that was her idea and i thought it was.... just so tender
> 
> Thank you all so much again i love you :')


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